


Stay

by sdeubanks



Series: The Ghost of You [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-06-02 20:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6580981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdeubanks/pseuds/sdeubanks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezra recounts the details of her first love and how they came together over the next three years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. February 1999

            I met Johnathan at a club when I was sixteen. I was rebelling. My father had died six months prior during a botched mugging and my mother had begun to smother me so much in response, I thought that I would actually suffocate. The club was called the Loading Dock and was featuring some shitty garage-punk band that really couldn't play, but that was kind of the point. The “starving artist, struggling to make it big” type thing. It was only the third time I had slipped out of the apartment, but it was addictive. The loud, thrashing music, hazy air, and close, hot bodies were always sure to make me slip into a dreamless sleep when I returned to my mother and I's little apartment at three in the morning. That was what I wanted, not to dream, not to think, to just be in the moment and let my cares slip away.

            It was pretty cold that night but the club was oppressively hot as I made my way to a high top table close to the bar, shedding my jacket and bag. I got a cherry coke and sipped it slowly, my eyes roaming the thrashing crowd. It was a slow night, not a big turnout for whoever was playing, only about fifty people, which is why I figure John came up to me, he was bored. When he slid onto the stool next to mine I didn’t even bother turn to look at him. He wasn’t the first guy to try to chat me up, and I wasn’t interested in boys at the moment. I’d had my fair share of beaus, but after my father died, they only brought chaos when I needed peace.

            “You like the band?”

I shrugged, eyes never wandering his way.

“I guess what I really mean is do they _sound_ good?”

I sighed and finally turned my head to look at him. The first thing I noticed was I had to look up, he was quite tall. The second thing was how skinny he was. The kind of skinny that can only be genetics and models would kill for. His eyes were a pale blue, his hair light brown, boyishly curly, and a touch too long for my taste, but his smile was enough to make any girl stop for a second and reconsider. It wasn’t love at first sight, just a simple attraction.

He was grinning then, the first time I ever I looked at him and his smile caught me off guard enough that I felt the corners of my mouth tugging in imitation. Considering this would throw off the go away vibe I was trying to put out I stopped myself by replying,

“I guess they sound all right, but I'm not really sure what you are asking me.”

He chuckled, “I run the sound and do all of the equipment stuff for them. I just wanted an outside opinion on if it sounded clear or not.”

I raised my eyebrows and said “Oh,” in a dismissive tone and turned my face away.

“So how did you hear about these guys? They aren't exactly mainstream,”

I fought the urge not to roll my eyes and sigh, then turned back to him, annoyance evident on my face and in my tone, “I don't know, I just walked in.”

He somehow managed to grin even bigger, unfazed by my short words and said cheerily, “Oh a girl who just walks into a club and listens, no discrimination. Oh I like you,” and he scooted a little closer, which looked ridiculous considering how small the stool was in comparison to his frame and a laugh slipped out of my mouth. He scooted even closer, “So you think I'm funny huh?”

I laughed again and said sarcastically, “Oh yeah man, you really crack me up,” before I slid off of my stool and put my bag over my shoulder. Tonight was a bit of a bust, but the walk back home would hopefully wear me out enough to sleep. As I pulled on my jacket the guy slid from his seat to mine,

“Oh come on, you can tell me you think I’m funny. I promise I won't tell anyone else you were nice to me, scouts honor.”

Despite not meaning to I laughed again and in the seconds it took for me to stop he was standing, head bent down to look at me. His close proximity made my smile falter and as he leaned down, it slid off my face completely. His palm was a little rough on my neck just below my jaw and his lips were chapped, but that didn’t stop a small tingle from going down my spine. The kiss was brief and before I knew it he was pulling away and I could feel a blush creeping up my neck. I couldn’t believe some stranger had just kissed me ten seconds after meeting me. I was a tiny bit relieved to see he looked a little embarrassed as he ran a hand through his curly hair and smiled before holding out the hand to me,

“Johnathan, Jonathan Reese.”

I looked at his hand for a second, seeing a few scars before I slid my hand in and replied,

“Ezmeralda Rollins.”


	2. March 1999

I don’t see Johnathan again for three weeks after our sudden first kiss. I had left almost immediately after he introduced himself, embarrassed and more than a little unsure of how to proceed, and as the days went by, he began to fade into the back of my mind. You cannot really forget a complete stranger kissing you, but I was doing my best.

            When we met again, it was at open mic night at a little cafe in Newark called Cale's. I was signed up to play like I had been every Tuesday night since I was thirteen. It was Estelle's fault really. She signed me up as a dare when we were younger and it just stuck. Before she moved back to England in ’98, we would go every week and watch all the people play and sing, just enjoying the time away from everything.

            As I sat up on the stool, lights in my eyes, I missed Stella horribly at that moment. Not for the first time wishing she was back in Jersey and not 'over the fucking pond' with her parents and brother. We had both taken the news hard when her parents informed us of the upcoming move. She and I had been inseparable since she had moved to Jersey when we were eleven, with her British accent and punk clothes, so different from the other sixth graders, and I was the first to walk up to her and say hello.

            I strummed idly on my guitar, not knowing what to play and reminiscing when someone called, “Sweet Child O' Mine!” A ripple of laughter went the crowd and I squinted, trying to see who had requested it, but could see nothing through the haze of the house lights. I strummed the first few notes and sang softly,

“She's got a smile that it seems to me, it reminds me of childhood memories”

            The crowd swayed softly to my slow, acoustic version of the Guns n Roses original and clapped loudly when I finished, which caused me to grin. I bowed slightly and moved off the stage so the next performer could begin and headed towards the counter to get my free cherry coke for playing, only to be blocked by a guy in ripped jeans and a flannel button up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.

“You played beautifully,” the guy murmured and I thanked him quickly before trying to move past, not even looking at his face. “You know, most girls blush and deny compliments like that.”

I froze, sure I knew the voice, and looked up to see John smiling down at me, body relaxed. “John, oh...hey!”

“Oh...hey!” he mimicked and smiled a little more, “That's all you've got to say?”

I laughed nervously, “What do you want me to say?”

“That you'll let me take you out on a date.”

            God, that was John, so forward. I remember thinking he was crazy and most likely wanted only one thing, so I pushed past him to get my drink, only to have him follow me then sit close to me at the table when I sat down.

I was tense, wary of him. He was obviously older than I was, around nineteen, maybe twenty. If my mother even caught wind of a boy over sixteen smiling at me, she’d out me on lockdown that would make most prisons look like four star hotels. As we sat in what I felt was an awkward silence, John didn’t try repeat his offer or really speak at all. We just watched the other performers on the stage, the silence enveloping us and the night continued, I became accustomed to his presence and caught myself sneaking glances at him as he watched the stage. He was definitely tall, at least 6’4, I had been right about that. As I looked him over I noticed that while he was skinny, he was the kind of skinny that is attractive with its leanness. His hair looked even longer that last time, easily covering his ears, and as he turned to look at me he smiled, his eyes bright, almost like they were perpetually happy. His lips were big as was his nose, but the large proportions suited him so well that it almost made him look handsome. I found I couldn't look away and he smiled bigger, showing teeth, eyes crinkling in amusement. He opened his mouth to say something and I looked down, suddenly shy and glimpsed his hands, resting on the wooden table.

Long, thin fingers with wide palms. Lightly tanned skin across his knuckles and old scars, faint and pink. Callouses gave his fingers texture, making them look rough and old. Scars made a dot like pattern across his palms. My father once told me you can tell a lot about a person by their hands. That it’s almost a way to see who they truly are. It was Johnathan’s hands that made me look up and nod. To take a deep, shuddering breath and say softly, “Yes, I'll go on a date with you.”

 

            The following Tuesday I played the first slot at the cafe and met John by the door when I finished. He grinned at me, like a complete goofball, and pulled me out of the cafe and down the street a few blocks to a small park were we got chili dogs from a vendor and sat on an old wooden bench, watching the people of Jersey hustle by.

            “Do you ever just get sick of the city?”

            I chewed my chili dog slowly, thinking it over, “Not really. I've always lived on the outskirts of the city. I like the pace, I don't like to just sit in the quiet.”

John nodded as I spoke, smiling slightly, “The bustle of the city is what I like the least actually. I just feel so tired when I'm here. Everything is in such a hurry, I just want to relax. When I get married, I think we'll move to the country and just, you know...slow down.” He glanced at me and grinned, finishing his hot dog and gesturing to the guitar across my lap. I handed it over gently, hesitantly and swallowed as John's long fingers slid over mine to take the guitar. Always smiling, he winked and settled the instrument in his lap, bending over the top of it and strumming softly, trying a few chords.

“Why do birds suddenly appear

anytime you are near?

Just like me, they long to be,

close to you.”

            John's voice was of the crooning type and it made shivers run up my arms as he played. His thick hair swung over his eyes and his long fingers strummed lovingly over the strings. While he sang, John occasionally glanced sideways at me, as if making sure I wasn't mortified by his actions. When he finished, he blew out a big puff of air and shook the hair out of his face, slowly raising his eyes to look at me. I've often wondered what he saw. I was five foot four, short and sort of stocky. My wavy brown hair was long and up in a messy bun and I wasn’t wearing make-up. I bit my lip nervously as he looked me over, that smile always on his face.

“You're beautiful Ezmarelda.”

I blushed and laughed softly, but John’s expression didn’t change. Encouraged, I moved a little closer, “You think so?”

Johnathan's smile wavered a little, “Yeah.”

I moved the guitar out of his lap and slid a little closer so that our legs were touching.

“What about me is beautiful?” I slid my fingers up his arm and his smile grew smaller, his eyes more serious.

“Well your voice of course. And you fingers when you play,”

I smiled, “Anything else?” I saw him swallow hard and grinned.

“Your-your eyes and,” he was stammering adorably, “your lips.”

I kissed him.

            His eyes were slow to open as I pulled away and he finally wasn't smiling. His stare was serious and deep, “I'm going to marry you.” he murmured softly, taking me by surprise.

“You are?”

“Yeah.”

“Why is that?”

“Because no girl has ever done that to me.”

“What?”

“Made such a forward move. That's kind of my thing.”

I laughed, “My apologies sir, I'll be sure to act more like a shy little girl.”

“Don't,” he slid a hand behind my neck and pulled me closer,” I like it.”

We kissed for the third time since we had met.

            When we pulled away, John rested his forehead against my own. He ran his thumb over my palm and I giggled, “That tickles,” and he smiled. I tried to do the same to him, but ended up just tracing the scars on his palm.

“Do you know what those are from?” I shook my head and smiled a little. John sighed, “That's something else I like about you.”

I cocked my head to the side a little, “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, “It's called Graft vs Host, and it’s caused by complications from a transplant I had a while back. It's not contagious or anything. I just have the scars now.”

“Transplant?”

He shrugged, “Nothing serious, just platelets, red blood cells.”

I frowned but shrugged it off, he could have needed blood and platelets for a number of things. At the time I was a lot more concerned about how his lips felt against my jawline, feathery and soft. We were quiet for a little while, just holding hands, occasionally kissing, when a sudden thought occurred to me,

“How old are you?”

“Mm, twenty, why?”

I pulled away and stood up, feeling awkward.

“Ezmarelda?” Johnathan's face was worried, and he had a hand out to stop me from leaving.

           “John, you're four years older than me. My mom will never let me go on seeing you. We shouldn't have even started this. I-I should go.” John jumped up and gripped my wrist, pulling me close,

“No. Please don't. Ezmarelda-”

“Ezra.” I whispered,

“Ezra.” He slid his lips across my cheek, “Don't go. I'll meet your mom if I have to. I want to keep seeing you. Please.”

I sighed, “Fine. Fine. I'll invite her to next Tuesday's mic night. You can meet her then. But if she says no that's it. Okay?”

The grin was back, “Of course.” I pulled away gently and lifted my guitar, and slipped the strap over my shoulder.

“I need to get home now or my mom will start to worry.”

He pulled me back close and kissed me before saying,

“Fine, that's fine. I'll see you there, I'll be onstage, so be on time.” John kissed me again and finally let me go, watching me as I walked away.

 

            When I walked into our apartment later that night, my mom was waiting up for me, looking nervous.

“Where have you been?”

I set my guitar down next to the door and hung up my jacket on its peg.

“Hi mom. Sorry. Got caught up at the cafe, there were a lot of new acts and I decided to get a chili dog so I wouldn't have to mess up the dishes.”

My mother stood, her thin hands shaking, “You should have called. I didn't know where you were, I was worried sick.”

I sighed quietly, “Mom, I'm hardly ten minutes late. The new people were really good. Come with me next week. Then maybe you'll see.”

She shook her head, her dark hair falling out of her usual bun, “No Ezra, and I think you should stop going halfway across town just to play your guitar, you can play it here.”

I gaped at her, “Mom it's only twenty minutes away. I'm back before ten every Tuesday. Why are you acting like this?”

I knew as soon as I said it that it was the wrong thing to say to my safety obssessed and I immediately regretted it as I saw her eyes narrow and her mouth form a thin line,

“Your father's work was only twenty minutes away and he was always home on time until the one day he wasn't and they found him in an alley, shot and robbed.”

I sighed, loud enough for her to hear this time, “I know mom. I was here when the cops came.”

            My father's death six months prior had turned my mother into a shell of her former self. She hardly ate or slept, and she constantly worried. His death had the opposite effect on me. I chose to focus on living in the now, doing what I love. My dad had always told me not to be scared of life and to live every day like it was my last, so I had. And my mother hated every minute of it. My bed time was nine pm, ten thirty on Tuesdays and I could never go anywhere except school, the cafe, and home. Sneaking out to clubs after midnight was my only way to escape.

            As my mother stood before me that night, I could feel myself beginning to resent her over-protectiveness.

“I'm going to my room.” I muttered and picked up my guitar, brushed past her, and went up the stairs to my tiny room, slamming the door behind me. I felt bad that I had hurt her feelings, but I also felt so smothered that I couln’t breathe. I wasn’t a bad kid. I made good grades, followed curfew, but she still couldn’t let go. With a sigh I picked up my corded green phone and dialed for the operator, then asked her to direct a call to England. Estelle sounded more awake then she should have been as early in the morning as was when she said, “Ezra?!”

I smiled at the sound of my best friend's voice, “Hey Stell.”

            I talked to Estelle until one am, telling her about the thing with my mom and meeting John again and our date. She was totally amazed that I had been so forward,

“You know Ez, that may make you seem a bit like a whore.”

I scoffed, then decided she may be right, but I didn't care. My evening with Jihn had been a once in a lifetime chance that I was glad I had taken, especially since my mother was going into full lockdown mode.

We talked until she had to start getting ready for school and I was beginning to drift to sleep. As my eyes began to close I thought about John and felt myself smile. I was definately crushing.

“Goodnight dad,” I mumbled softly, a little ritual I had taken up six months before and quickly fell asleep.


	3. March 1999

            The next week at school was a blur as I couldn’t keep my mind from drifting to Johnathan and what would happen Tuesday. Tuesday morning I sat at the breakfast table, gulping down cereal when my mother quietly entered the kitchen and leaned against the doorway.

“Ezra, honey?” I grunted around my cereal and she sighed softly. Things had been tense between us since the last Tuesday and my shoulders were stiff as she walked closer. “I was thinking that we could get an early dinner before heading over to the cafe. What time does the open mic night start?”

“Seven-thirty,” I mumbled and hurriedly washed out my bowl and set it in the drainer. “I'm late. I'll see you when I get home.” I kissed her cheek gently and practically ran out of the door to catch the bus that would be arriving any second.

            I was home by three-thirty and my stomach was so knotted in anticipation of the night, that I couldn’t stop pacing. I sat impatiently in the living room, guitar in my lap, for my mother to get off work. Finally, I just started playing, just to have something to distract me.

“Life is bigger It's bigger than you And you are not me. The lengths that I will go to The distance in your eyes. Oh no I've said too much I set it up.”

            As I strummed the chords, I mulled over what I would play at the cafe that night,

“That's me in the corner That's me in the spotlight Losing my religion.”

            I heard the lock click on the door but continued to sing, loathing to not play a song all the way though. My mother stood in the doorway, watching me,

“But that was just a dream That was just a dream.”

            I played the last few notes and let my hands fall limp, blowing my hair out of my face. My mom shut the door softly with a sigh.

“Every time I hear you play, it's like your father is here again,” she murmured gently and walked slowly to her room to change out of her office clothes. I stood, wiped my hands off on my jeans, and went upstairs to change as well. I slipped on a pair of combat boots, and a jean jacket over my white t-shirt. As I thudded down the stairs, I saw my mom running a thin hand over the bridge of my old guitar.

“You ready?”

She jumped slightly but nodded and I slung the guitar over my shoulder before I handed her her jacket and opened the door. We ate at a cute, little diner a few blocks from the cafe and walked slowly in the chilly March air to our destination. We were a little early, but that was fine by me since I had no idea what I wanted to play. Johnathan was sitting at a table alone, drumming his fingers on the worn wood. He flashed me a tight smile as my mother and I entered and nodded hello to mom. I led her over to him and introduced them,

“Mom this is John, he works with sound equipment with a couple of the bands around here. John this is my mom Jane Rollins.”

Johnathan stood and offered his hand, “Nice to meet you Mrs. Rollins, John Reese.” Mother smiled, charmed by his politeness. “Will you sit? I'm the first one up.” She nodded and we sat in the open seats at the table while John bounded up to the stage and sat that the bench in front of the piano.

“He plays the piano?” My mother's voice was mildly interested.

I nodded absentmindedly murmuring, “And the guitar,” my eyes following on his long thin fingers as they played a few notes,

“Slow down you crazy child You're so ambitious for a juvenile But then if you're so smart tell me why You are still so afraid?”

            My mom swayed gently to the music only to pause when she realized John was casting glances my way as he played.

“When will you realize... Vienna waits for you.”

            Polite clapping followed his performance and he smiled and bowed, walking languidly back to our table. I could see my mother looking at Johnathan differently, assessing him.

“So, John, you sounded amazing, who taught you?”

John grinned as he sat down on my left side, “My dad taught me before he died. He was a piano teacher at an academy. In my family everyone plays at least one instrument, usually two.”

My mother's eyes softened at the new that John's father had died. “Ezra's father taught her to play as well. He just played as a hobby, but he was a natural.” John nodded, seeming interested. The owner of the cafe nodded to me and I hurried away from the table, guitar gripped tightly in my hand. My mother and Johnathan continued to talk as I walked up on stage. I sat on the stool behind the microphone and took a deep breath,

            “I was down at the New Amsterdam staring at this yellow-haired girl Mr. Jones strikes up a conversation with this black- haired flamenco dancer She dances while his father plays guitar She's suddenly beautiful We all want something beautiful I wish I was beautiful.”

            I lost myself in the music and pushed out thoughts of my mother, Johnathan, and the painful memory of my father. When I finished it was like someone had lifted headphones off of my ears and the sounds of applause assaulted me. I blushed crimson like I hadn’t in years and hurried off stage and to the table where my mom and John sat close, talking.

“You sounded beautiful honey,” my mother whispered to me as the next performer began. John slid a hand over mine beneath the table, squeezing gently. “Johnathan was telling me that his mother is a nurse at the general hospital and they only live a few blocks from us. How ironic is that?” I smiled tightly, waiting for her questions to get more probing. “So John, how old are you?” There it was.

Johnathan's easy smile wavered a little, “I'm twenty.”

“Are you in college?” My mother was on a roll,

           “No ma'am, my mother and I didn't really see a point.”

“What do you mean?”

I sighed, “Mother please.”

            John set a gentle hand on my arm, “No Ezra it's fine. My mother and I didn't think that paying all that money for college was worth it mostly because I've been sick most of my life. Started with pneumonia, then respiratory infections, and leukemia. It's been in remission for a few years, but we figure why waste the money?” I could tell my mom felt embarrassed for asking him the question and her small shoulders hunched a little in shame. “Hey, it's no big deal. I'm okay with the whole thing, no need to pity me.” John grinned and took a sip of a water that sat in front of him.

“Excuse me,” my mother said softly and walked hurriedly to the bathroom.

            John watched her leave then looked down at me, “I don't think she approves,” a slight smile on his face.

“You have cancer?” was my low reply.

John grimaced and rubbed his neck uncomfortably, “Yeah, about that,” he trailed off but I did not interrupt so he sighed, “These scars on my hand? The transplant I had was a bone marrow one. It was about two years ago. It put the leukemia in remission so I'm basically healthy now.” He half chuckled but stopped when he saw my face,

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

Another sigh, “Because this is how everyone reacts. It's all good until they find out and then it's pity and treating me like I'm an invalid and fragile. I hate it.”

I looked around, “Who exactly is looking at you with pity right now?”

“What?”

“Does it look like I pity you?”

John held up his hands, “Yes? No? I don't know, you mostly look angry.”

“I'm annoyed.”

He narrowed his eyes, “And why is that?”

“Because, you didn't trust me enough to tell me. You want to meet my mother after our first date and yet you can't be bothered to tell me you have a life threatening disease that could crop up any moment and kill you? I kind of feel like that is something you should lead off with.”

            John scoffed, “Seriously? Like, 'Hi, I'm John and I have AML, can I buy you a drink?”

I laughed a little, “Basically. Girls love honesty.” John shook his head and looked back at the stage where an older man was playing guitar and humming a song I did not recognize. My mother returned from the restroom but did not sit,

“I think that Ezra and I should be getting home, she has homework and _school_ tomorrow.”

“Mom,” she was trying to press the age difference.

“No, Ezra, she's right,” John smiled, eyes sad, “You should get home, can't be failing classes now.” My mother nodded and pulled on my arm. I clenched my jaw, frustration pulsing through me,

“Ezra, let's go.” My mother tugged on my arm and it was all I could do not to jerk away.

“I'll see you around,” John murmured as my mother dragged me from the cafe and down the street to the bus stop.

            The second we walked into the apartment she started,

“He's too old for you Ezmarelda. It could never work.”

“Mom nothing is going on. I met him at the cafe and we started talking. That's all.”

She turned to face me, “You think I didn't notice how the two of you were looking at each other? I may be old, but I'm not stupid,” she stomped into the kitchen and I groaned,

“I didn't say you were!” She glared,

“Don't you dare raise your voice to me young lady. I'm getting sick of your attitude lately. Just because your father is gone does not mean you get to act out. He wouldn't have it and neither will I.”

            I could feel the past six months' frustration beginning to boil over and I couldn't stop myself from saying, “Well maybe I'm sick of your attitude too. Did you ever think of that?” The shock on her face only made it easier, “Just because dad died doesn't mean you get to freaking smother me like I'm some child who doesn't know right from wrong. I'm seventeen soon and you tell me to grow up and take responsibility all the time and yet you barely let me out of the apartment. I'm sick of it.”

            “If you think for one second I'm going to let you go out with some musician four years older than you then you are dead wrong missy.” Her voice was getting shriller with every word,

“Why? Just because you did? I hardly think that that is a good reason mother. John isn't dad and I am definitely not _you._ ” Her eyes narrowed and I wondered if I had gone too far,

“What exactly is that supposed to mean Ezmarelda?” I sighed and shook my head,

“Nothing, I don't feel like fighting anymore. I'm going to bed.”

“Oh no you're not,” she gripped my wrist with her thin fingers and I looked into her sad eyes feeling resentment and anger rising. Wrenching my arm away I spat,

“You're pathetic. Ever since dad died you just mope around feeling sorry for yourself. I loved him too you know. So stop acting like you're the only person who lost someone you care about. Welcome to the real world mom, people die every day.”

            I went too far, I knew it the second the words left my mouth, but even knowing that didn’t prepare me for her reaction. When she slapped me I felt shocked for a few seconds and then overwhelmed by anger as she screamed.

“You selfish little brat!” she shrieked, “Your father was the love of my life and I lost him six months ago, I think I have to right to mourn him for as long as I like. Without me, your pathetic mother, you wouldn't have a roof over your head or food on the table. I'm sorry I'm not good enough for you Ezra, I'm not your father. You've always loved him more than you've ever loved me and I'm sorry he died but there is nothing I can do to change that. So I suggest you get over you little 'rebellious teen' streak because it's getting old. Your father is never coming back and the sooner you accept that the better.”

            I'm not proud of what I did next, not in the least. My guitar was still on my back and I was so angry I didn’t stop to think before I jerked it off and slammed it against the wall screaming incoherently. I scared my mother, I could see it in her eyes. Hell when I stopped to think about it later, I scared myself.

“I hate you!” I screamed and slammed the guitar against the kitchen wall again, strings popping free. “I wish you had died instead of him!” I slammed the guitar one more time before I let my arms go limp, breathing heavily. My mother looked like I had sucker punched her. What I just said hit me and I felt my chest tighten when I realized it was the truth. I absolutely wished my dad was there instead of her. Who thinks that about their own mother? Panicking I mumbled, “I can't be here, I have to leave,” and ran to my room, shoving clothes and money into an old rucksack before I grabbed my book bag, and hurried out the front door. My mom was left behind me, slumped in a chair in the kitchen, head hanging.

            The bus to the cafe seemed to take hours. It was nearly ten, there was no guarantee that John would even be there, but I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. I nearly ran the three blocks from the bus stop to the cafe. When I rounded the corner to see John leaning against the outside smoking a cigarette, I nearly cried with relief. He saw me almost the same time I saw him and the concern on his face made my chest tighten.

“Ezra?”

He dropped the cigarette and hurried to me, fingers brushing my swollen cheek.

“I-I need a place to stay,” I mumbled and John's eyes softened,

“Of course, you can stay the night. I'll call my mom and let her know when we get there.”

 

            John and his mother's apartment was bigger than my mom's was. It had a third bedroom and a good sized kitchen. He got blankets and put them in the guest room along with my bags.

“The bus for the school comes by here at 7:25, you can either take that or I can drive you. Mom takes the bus to and from work unless she has an odd shift.”

            John sat heavily on the couch and pulled me next to him, “So I know you don't want me to, but I have to ask what happened.” I swallowed and told him everything that had happened since my mother and I had left the cafe. When I finished he blew out air and ran a hand through his hair, “That was harsh Ezra. I mean her husband did die, it's going to affect her. You can't judge her, you don't know what it's like to lose that person.” John was being honest, but that was not exactly what I wanted. After a selfish moment I mumbled,

“I know,” and sighed, “But I can't take how she treats me anymore.” Johnathan smiled gently and stroked my cheek,

“Ezra, I know what you're going through. When I first got sick my mom wouldn't even let me out of bed, let alone go to a cafe to play music. I know it's hard, but you have to see it from her point of view. You are the only thing she has left and she is going to fight like hell to make sure you are safe.” I knew what he was saying was right, but it still annoyed me that he was taking her side, “I'm not taking her side by the way. I just want you to realize it's not just about you anymore. There are people in your life that care about you and you're going to have to deal with their affection,” he smiled, “Even if it is overbearing.” I sighed and nodded, knowing it was useless to argue. “Now, do you want something to eat or should I put in a movie and we'll watch it until you fall asleep?”

I smiled, “Movie,” and was rewarded with a grin and a kiss on the forehead.

“Alright, you go change and I'll get us set up and get changed myself.”

            When I came out of the spare room, John wasn't in the living room so I crept down the hall to the semi-open door, peeking inside. John's back was to me and he was about to unbuckle his belt. He turned and looked straight at me and I found I couldn’t turn away.

“It's rude not to knock,” he mumbled, heavy belt buckle causing his jeans to sag, “and even ruder to stare.” I nodded, not really paying attention to what he was saying, my eyes straying from his face. He was skinny and pale, his muscles lean and natural. I felt my cheeks flush as I looked at him, I had never been so attracted to a guy before. I had had a few boyfriends, kissed a boy or two, but this felt different. In those relationships I held the cards because I was the girl. I made the moves when I wanted. With John it felt backwards. It could have been the age or the mystery, but as he moved closer to the door I felt myself become self-conscious and lowered my eyes. “Can I help you?” a small smile played on his lips and I screwed up every ounce of courage I had just to look up at him as he pulled the door open a little wider. Taking a deep breath I curled my fingers around the buckle of his belt and front of his jeans and pulled him closer, trying to reassert my confidence, “I sure hope so.”

I watched the smile slide off his face and be replaced by a dark look that I hadn't seen before.

“Ezra,” I raised an eyebrow, “Ezra don't. We shouldn't do this. We can't.” I froze as my brain registered what he had said. I swallowed and took a step back, my hands moving behind my back,

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. My bad.” I could feel my cheeks flush and I backed away another step. John furrowed his brow,

“No, Ezra please. Don't take it that way.” He took a step further but I shook my head,

“It's fine. It was silly of me. I think I'll head to bed. Don't want to oversleep tomorrow.” I turned and made myself walk normally to the spare room, so mortified at being rejected I just wanted to run. Who was I kidding? I was just some high school girl. I curled up in the dark, eyes clenched shut, trying to ease my humiliation when I heard the door creak open. Soft footsteps across the carpet and the sinking of the bed warned me of Johnathan's presence. He was quiet for a long time, his breathing deep and steady. I nearly drifted to sleep only to jerk my eyes open when he said softly,

            “There is an eighty percent chance that the cancer will come back. The doctors are saying it's just a matter of time. I don't want to start anything with you only for it to end because the cancer came back. I won't do that to you. It was selfish of me to even have started things with you. You don't deserve to have to deal with me when it does comes back. I wouldn't expect you to stick around and I'm not going to make you have to choose. I'm not going to make you sit there and watch me die.”

            I sat up slowly and I could just make out his facial expression from the hall light outside of the room. For once, John wasn't smiling.

“You couldn't make me do anything I didn't want to. If I stayed, it would be my choice. We just met, but I already know that I would stay by your side, even if we stay just friends. You're special John, I can feel it. I know that I'm only sixteen, but I know how to care about people and I know loss. I'm perfect for you.” He laughed gently,

“You are so...strange. I tell you I'm going to die soon, a slow, painful death, and you want to be my girlfriend. Do you have an obsession with dying men? Because I think you'll find the love to be a bit one sided after a while since they you know, die.” I frowned and pushed his shoulder,

“I'm being serious John. I'm staying by your side no matter what happens. It's your choice if it's as a friend or a girlfriend.” He stayed quiet for a long time. I kept my eyes on his face, watching him struggle with the decision.

“Alright,” he said finally, sounding defeated, “Alright you win, but I don't want you to suffer because I'm being selfish. You can leave at any point.” I kissed him softly, resting my forehead against his,

“Never.”

 

            I awoke the next morning to hear voices outside of the room I was staying in. I tip-toed to the door, pressing my ear against it,

“John she can't live here.”

“Mom, she doesn't have anywhere else to go, I told you.”

“She needs to go home, he mom is probably worried sick.”

“I called her last night after Ezra went to sleep. I told her where she was and that she was safe. She only lives a few blocks from here.”

“John this isn't going to work, especially if you have feelings for this girl. She is too young and you hardly know each other. I'm taking her home after she gets out of school.”

“She promised she'd stay.”

            A long silence followed and I thought about the night before when I had promised John I would not leave. For some reason I had really meant it. It felt right. John's mother sighed, “Oh John, honey, she doesn't know what it's like to watch someone die. She probably means it, but one look at you throwing up blood and being covered in bed sores and she'll run.”

“Ezra's different mom, you don't understand.”

“Johnathan please. I know you're scared, but don't do this, don't pull that poor girl into our nightmare, she doesn't deserve it. It's six-forty, you should wake her up, I'll make some breakfast.”

            I hurried back to the bed, diving under the covers just as John opened the door and walked quietly into the room. “Ezra,” he shook my shoulder softly and I turned to look at him, noticing that he looked tired and sad. “Hey,” he murmured and slid his knuckles across my cheek, “It's time to get up. My mom is going to make you breakfast and then I'll drive you to school. Okay?” I nodded and he gave me a small smile, but I could tell it was forced. He started to get off of the bed but I grabbed his wrist gently,

“Hey,” I murmured, “I meant what I said last night, I want you know that.” A real smile crept onto his face and he said softly,

“I know,” and stole a quick kiss before heading back into the hall, shutting the door behind himself.

            John's mother was a stout woman, older than my mother, and looked like she knew how to handle any situation. Her light brown hair was in a tight bun and when she turned I saw that she and John had the same eyes. She smiled at me in a motherly way as I walked quietly into the kitchen and John looked between us with apprehension, clearly worried about what his mother would say.

“I'm going to call your mom after Johnathan takes you to school. You should be at home.” I sat heavily in an empty chair at the table and sighed,

“Did John tell you what happened?” She sniffed,

“He said that you and your mother had a fight, I think that's hardly a reason to run away.”

            I smiled ruefully, “I told my mother that I wished she had died six months ago instead of my dad and smashed my guitar against the wall, nearly breaking it in half. That was my dad's guitar and now it's broken, just like my relationship with my mother. Now if you don't want me staying here then that is fine, but I won't be going home, I can tell you that much. There are plenty of shelters nearby, I'll stay there.” I grabbed my backpack and rucksack that I had brought into the kitchen and headed for the door, ignoring John's badly concealed laugh.

“Wait!”

I paused at the front door and turned to see John's mother walking towards me. “It seems I may have to reconsider my decision. I can't in good conscious have you living on the streets. My name is Eliza and you're welcome to stay here as long as you need.”


	4. September 1999

 

            I didn't see my mother for six months. I called my mom that first day and let Mrs. Reese talk to her. They were on the phone for a while. When they finally hung up Mrs. Reese’s face was pinched,

“Your mother said you can come get your things whenever you’d like. I’ll take you by after school.”

And just like that I was living with near strangers. It was awkward at first, getting to know their dynamics, but Mrs. Reese was kind and John was always trying to make me laugh, so soon I wasn’t quite so nervous and the sting of my mother’s abandonment lessened.

We all decided not to tell the high school that I was technically a runaway/abandoned minor. My mother just signed papers that showed my new address and said I was saying with family. My friends at school hardly even noticed when I stopped riding the bus with them. I guess we weren’t really all that close. Since Estelle left, I hadn’t really bothered to try to connect with anyone.

During those six months John and I became closer, I turned seventeen, I learned how to work sound equipment, and started my senior year.    

Johnathan's mom worked constantly at the hospital and we were nearly always alone together in the apartment and yet John made no moves to push our relationship. We kissed occasionally and John loved to sit next to me while I did my homework, body snug against mine, and play with my hair. For all his grand announcements of saying he’d marry me, he hardly even touched me.

            “Ezra stop. I don't think we should be doing this.” John was beneath me, hands on my waist, breathing heavily. I had cornered him in the kitchen and managed to get him onto the living room couch before he could stop me. When I had turned him around he had been doing dishes, hands sudsy and I’d went on tiptoe and pulled his face to mine. I kissed him hard and his wet hands went to my hips and squeezed.

“Ez,”

I pressed closer to him, eliciting a little groan in response and then he was kissing me back. I maneuvered us to the couch, not breaking contact and pushed him down before straddling him, my lips going to his neck. His pulse was erratic beneath my lips, his breathing growing harsh, fingers digging into my waist. When he stopped me a few moments later I sighed,

“Why not? You like me and I like you. John I trust you.”

He looked determined as he pushed me off of him to that he could face me,

“Ezra…I don’t want you to feel like you have to be with me because you live here. I’m sure there are plenty of guys your age that you are interested in. I don’t want to take advantage of your situation.”

I stared,

“So you don’t want to be with me?”

“I didn’t say that. I just don’t want this to be forced and…”

“And what?”

He sighed,

“Ezra if we do this, we can't take it back. If we kept moving things along then I figure we’ll eventually have sex. I'll always be your first and it'll change things.”

I looked at him a little confused as to why that was an issue before finally realizing what the problem was,

“You don't want me to get anymore attached to you than I am already am do you?” The fact he wouldn’t look me in the eye more than enough to confirm my suspicion. “It’s because of the cancer. I’m not stupid John, I know what I’m getting into. I don’t care.”

“Ez…”

“Fine. Whatever you want.” And I got up and went to my room.

“Aw, Ezra come on.”

            Fuming I shut the door firmly behind myself. If he didn’t want to be with me then so be it. I could manage to treat him like a brother. A gentle knock made me growl, “I’m fine.”

“Ezra please. You have to understand, I'm just trying to save you from what's going to happen. I couldn't stand to see you suffer, I-,”

I opened the door to tell him off,

“I am perfectly capable of maki-” I stopped when I saw the blood trickling from his nose. I heard John sigh softly through his hands as he covered his face then cough before heading to the bathroom, me following close behind.

            “So I think that I love you,” John's voice was muffled from the towel I had pressed firmly against his nose. I scoffed,

“Oh you _think_ huh? A minute ago you couldn’t share the same space as me and now you love me.”

“It's the truth,” he mumbled around the towel and pulled it and my hand away from his face, “I love you.”

I stared at him a moment, “That's not funny Jonathan, don't play with me.”

He smiled sadly and shrugged, “I'm being serious. To be honest it scares the hell out of me. You’re young and my cancer is…” he gestured to the blood soaked towel, “It’s just a matter of time now. My body is wearing down. I don’t want to love you, it’s disgustingly selfish and I should be trying to drive you away but…I love you Ezra.”

We sat there in a weighted silence as John waited for my reply. I couldn’t think of anything to say. How do you respond to that? How can you have anything to say to someone with a terminal illness telling you they love you despite their better judgement? I knew he was right. I should have ran for the hills, but I just stood there processing.

When I didn’t respond, John just took a deep breath then stood. A kiss on the forehead and a, “It's late,” proceeded him leaving me in the bathroom and going to his room alone.

            That night I couldn't sleep. I just stared at the ceiling and replayed the conversation over and over in my head. Johnathan loved me, but wished he didn’t. He wished I would leave, and I knew I should. Over and over I told myself to get up and call Mrs. Reese, tell her to take me back to my mother. Over and over I didn’t get up. How could I leave them alone? How could I make them suffer through all of this alone? The image of John’s nose pouring blood came to mind and I tensed.

I should get up.

Get up.

As I hurried down the hall to Johnathan's room, I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread as I got closer. I heard a groan of pain and I opened his door and flipped on the light, calling his name and was answered by another groan. “John?”

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, long fingers gripping the mattress. He glanced up at me, eyes wide with fright, “Ezra,” crimson stained his lips. My mind raced and my gut wrenched in fear, as John was racked with another wave of whatever was hurting him. His long arms circled his midsection and he doubled over in pain. He looked up, breathing heavy and his eyes seemed to plead with me to help him.

“John, Johnathan..I'm going to call an ambulance okay? You're mom isn't off work yet.” He stood shakily and walked to me gasping,

“No! I don't want to go to the hospital. I'm-I'm fine.” he squeezed an arm around his middle again and groaned. “No you're not, I'm calling 9-1-1.” I pulled away from him as gently as I could and ran to the phone, heart sinking as another series of groans sounded behind me.

“9-1-1 what's your emergency?”

“My friend is sick, he's coughing up blood. He has a history of leukemia.”

“What's the address?”

            I gave the operator the address to the apartment and stayed on the line with her until the paramedics knocked on the door. I practically ran to the entrance and wrenched the door open leading the two men to where John sat gasping in the hallway floor.

“Sir, can you hear me?” the taller of the two paramedics shined a light in John's eyes. John nodded.

“Okay, good. Can you tell me where it hurts?”

            John took a wheezing breath and pointed to midsection before succumbing to another wave of pain, blood trickling out of his mouth. The shorter paramedic looked at me, eyes serious,

“Does he have any conditions that we should know about?”

I let out a hysterical laugh, “Asthma, he smokes, has a history of pneumonia, cancer in remission and I think that's it.” The paramedic looked down at John in worry, “Arthritis,” John wheezed, a small smile on his lips as he winked at me. The paramedics looked at us like we were crazy and loaded John up on the carrying board and walked him quickly and carefully downstairs into the waiting ambulance. The ride to General was short, but in that time, they managed to stick Johnathan full of IV's and get him fitted with an oxygen mask. The doors of the ambulance swung wide and there was a flurry of doctors and a slew of medical terms that only confused me. I heard the words 'dehydrated', 'asthma', 'leukemia', and John's name and age. His long fingers were wrapped around mine and they gripped tighter as we entered the hospital. More hospital lingo was slung around as we neared a pair of double doors and a nurse tugged on my shoulder.

“Miss you can't go back with him. We need you to fill out some paperwork. The doctors are going to run a few tests and get him into a room.”

John could hear what the nurse said and sat up, wrenching off the oxygen mask,

“No!”

It took three nurses to get him back down to wrestle him back down before he curled up in pain. “Johnathan you have to calm down, you're going to hurt yourself. She can't come back with you, you know that, you've been through this before. Look at me, it's Doctor Crawford. Yes you remember me, now let go John, we have to get you to the CT scan, John let go.”

            The African American doctor had her hands over mine and John's, trying to pull them apart. John finally let go, eyes wide with terror as the nurses quickly wheeled him through the doors and out of sight. I glanced down at myself, realizing I was only in bed-shorts and a t-shirt, my hands pink from John's blood. He had wiped his hands and then grabbed mine, I felt my stomach turn. Dr. Crawford was still next to me, watching.

“You did the right thing, he will be fine,” she seemed to be trying to calm me down. I forced myself to shrug,

“I know John will be fine, he said you're a good doctor, I just-He hates it here. He begged me not to bring him, I feel awful.”

Dr. Crawford led me to the ER waiting room which was nearly empty save for one small family in the corner looking stricken. “Well Johnathan has had to spend most of his life in this hospital, it's only natural for him to have an aversion to it.” She sat me down, “I'm going to page Nurse Reese and tell her what happened and that you're here. Maybe she can get you home and get you some clothes. It's September, you must be chilly.” I shrugged and Dr. Crawford smiled and patted my shoulder before walking away, leaving me with the scared little family in the corner.

            It was about an hour later when Eliza came out of the double doors that Johnathan had disappeared into. Mrs. Reese was walking with a purpose when I glimpsed her out of the corner of my eye. She scanned the waiting room while she walked, eyes zeroing in on me. She came and stood over me, looking determined,

“What happened?” I sighed and stretched mumbling,

“He started spitting up blood and he could hardly breathe so I called an ambulance. You weren't there and I didn't know what to do. I think he's mad at me.” Mrs. Reese sat heavily into the seat next to me, whispering to herself,

“It's started,” before glancing up at me. “It's only going to get worse Ezmarelda, now is the time to walk away.” I stared at her, “We won't hold it against you, we won't be angry. Just walk away and you won't have to go through all of this.”

The fear I had felt all night evolved into frustration at her words, “How dare you say that to me,” I hissed and Mrs. Reese looked shocked, “I promised John that I would stay by his side no matter what happened and here you both are trying to talk me into leaving. It's not going to happen. I'm not going to make him go through this alone, or you.” Eliza's jaw clenched, “You work non-stop, you don't deserve to have to deal with all of the fear and stress alone. I'm here for John, and I'm here for you. Nothing is going to make me leave.”

A tear ran down his mother's face and she shook her head slowly, “You are such a strong girl Ezra, but I can't let you go through this. It will break you.” She stood and walked purposefully away, leaving me alone and confused as to what was going to happen next.

            A few hours later it was seven am and a nurse walked quietly into the waiting room. I hadn't slept yet and figured I'd just skip school for the day since it was a Friday. She walked to my side and sat next to me, her manner gentle.

“Ezra? I'm Danni. Johnathan is stable and we have him hooked up to fluids to help with the dehydration. His mother is with him, and normally only family is allowed in outside of visiting hours, but he is specifically asking for you. Would you like to see him?”

The fact that she even had to ask that kind of was ridiculous to me but I nodded anyway, keeping my face passive as she stood and led me to the elevator and up to the third floor where John's room was.

            “John you are being selfish, she doesn't deserve to have to see you like this.” The nurse knocked softly on the door and two pairs of eyes shifted in our direction. One full of annoyance, the other full of hope.

“Ezra,” a smile for me as I hurried to his side, eyes filling with tears that I fought to hold back. “Hey-hey now, don't do that. I'm fine see?”

“You are not fine Johnathan Louis,” his mother snapped and John turned to glare at her,

“Don't you have a shift you need to finish?” and her eyes widened with surprise and hurt before she stood stiffly and stalked out of the room, leaving John, myself, and the nurse behind. Danni checked John's fluids before smiling gently and leaving the room, shutting the door carefully behind herself. The moment she was gone John pulled me onto the bed and wrapped his arms around me, kissing me fiercely.

“John, stop.”

He paused, slight grin on his face and brushed my hair out of my eyes, “What? Oh Ezra come on, I'm fine. Just got dehydrated and they found an ulcer, a few actually. Said I should stop worrying.” He grinned and I scoffed,

“You never worry,” and kissed him softly. He looked down at my clothes and started to laugh which of course meant I turned pink while he grinned away at me and pulled me under the covers with him. “We'll have to get you scrubs until you can get home and get some clothes eh?” his voice was distorted from my ear being pressed against his chest, but I closed my eyes as he stroked my hair. “Get some sleep, you've been up all night. I love you.” My eyes were already closing but I remember mumbling, “I love you too,” and the feeling of John's lips as he kissed the top of my head then settled back against his pillow.

            It felt like I had only been asleep for a few minutes when voices woke me up.

“She needs to be home.” that was Eliza

“She won't leave,” that was John, I could feel his voice rumbling in his chest.

“She doesn't need to be here for this,” _that_ was my mother.

            It was all I could do not to wrench my eyes open. I carefully flexed my fingers on John's side and I felt him stiffen underneath me before relaxing again. “What makes you think that she just won't run away again and come back here to me?” a smile in his voice, I could tell. Both women were silent. He had them there that was exactly what I would do.

“I'll just send her to her grandparents on the other side of Newark, she can go to the high school there. John's arm tightened around me and I gently stroked his side, trying to comfort him. There was no way in hell I was going to live my grandparents. They hardly knew who I was. Eliza sighed,

“We aren't discussing this anymore. Jane, I think you should take her home.”

            Thin hands shook me gently and I turned, glaring at my mother's face. Both women seemed surprised as John said, “She heard everything,” and I didn't have to look to know he was smiling in satisfaction.

“I'm not going anywhere,” I stated and put my head back on John's chest, loving how he wrapped his long arms around me protectively. I heard a sigh and then,

“She can stay for the weekend, I'll come get her Sunday night,” and my mother left the room. “You are a selfish person Johnathan. I want you to know that. Because of you, this girl will never be the same,” and Eliza walked out of the room as well. We were silent for a little while before I mumbled,

“What time is it?” and yawned before I nestled a little more against his chest,

“It's only nine. You can go back to sleep if you want. The cafeteria opens at ten, you can get some breakfast then, or run across the street to the diner there. God I want a cigarette.”

I laughed and kept laughing until my laughter dissolved into sobs and tears streamed down my face. John held me tightly and murmured to me, trying to comfort me. All of the fear and stress and anger drowned me. My tears subsided after a few minutes and John and I sat in silence until he asked softly, “Did you cry when your dad died?” I felt my shoulders stiffen and I sat up, pulling away from him. “What does it matter?” I shrugged and slid off of the bed, walking quietly into the bathroom.

            When I returned, Johnathan looked guilty, “I'm sorry I asked,” but I only shrugged and spied a pair of scrubs sitting in a chair next to the bed. “They're for you,” he murmured and I closed the door, slipping off my shirt and sliding down my shorts before grabbing the light pink scrubs off the chair. John's eyes were glued to me as I slid on the bottoms and I glanced in his direction, “What?” He gave me a devilish grin and moved forward suddenly, pulling me back onto the bed and kissing me, hard. His thin fingers made me shiver as they slid slowly up and down my back. When he finally let me go, we were both breathing heavily. He was nothing but grins as he stared at me, hand stroking my face. I smiled back and leaned into his hand, “I need to get dressed,” I said softly and pulled on the top part of the scrubs as John frowned in fake disappointment. “Since when do you care about that?” John turned his head to the side a little,

“Since you decided to become the most caring, sweet, amazing girl ever. I'm going to marry you.” I laughed and shook my head, it felt good to laugh. “No really, I am!” John pulled me onto his chest and kissed my forehead, “Just you wait and see. You'll be Mrs. Johnathan Reese if I get my way.”

            Sunday night came and my mother along with it. She couldn't make me leave, no one could. I couldn’t go back to living in a house with barely contained hostility and mistrust. I went to school the next day, and every day after that, spending my nights at the hospital with John. The cancer was back. It was called acute myelogenous leukemia or AML and had a forty percent survival rate, but the doctors said it could be knocked out by a round of chemotherapy and that meant Johnathan could come home.


	5. October/November/December 1999

-October 1999-

It was a few days before Halloween and a week or so after John's birthday when Eliza and I helped John through the door after his first round of chemo. He was so tired he could barely stand, and I tucked him into bed while his mother started dinner

            “Ezra,” I knelt beside him and he stroked my cheek, “I'm going to die aren't I? I'm only twenty-one, I don't really want to die.” I bit my lip,

“I don't know John. Let's just see how the chemo does and then we'll worry about that okay?” He nodded slowly and drifted to sleep, hand going limp. I walked slowly down the hall and into the kitchen to help Eliza cook dinner.

            “What should I expect?” I asked quietly as I peeled potatoes, face hidden by my hair. John's mother stirred the ground beef cooking on the stove, thinking, “Last time he could hardly eat without throwing up. Add that to the fact his chemo also makes him sick, he gets pretty thin. He got bruises from lying in bed and of course, his hair fell out.” She chuckled, “That's why it's as long as it is now. He'll be okay, we'll just have to keep an eye on him and keep his fluids up so he doesn't get dehydrated again.” She smiled at me, “I'm glad you stayed. I wish you hadn't, but I'm glad you did.”

            At dinner, we practically force fed Johnathan, who claimed he wasn't hungry and he didn't throw up until the next morning. I wasn't on break for school for another few weeks so Eliza stayed home during the day and went to work when I got home. Each day brought more problems, but we struggled through it. Johnathan withdrew a little more the sicker he got, but I never held it against him.

 

-November 1999-

            By Thanksgiving, John's hair had thinned considerably, and he had grown paler. Losing his hair seemed to frustrate him the most. By the end of his treatment, John was completely bald and had dark circles under his eyes. The doctors said that though the white blood count was down, it wasn't in remission and that they would test John to see if he was a candidate for a stem cell transplant, otherwise there was nothing they could do. His aggressive bout of chemotherapy and lowered John's immune system too much for them to continue. When we brought John home from the hospital he just went to his room and slammed the door.

            The scissors were sharp as I hacked away at my chest length hair. I was going to cheer John up no matter what it took. When I finished, my hair was at my ears and choppy, but overall looked okay. I knocked on his door softly then walked in, He had his head in his hands, back to me as he sat at his desk. “John?” He turned slowly, eyes sad and looked at me. It took him a minute to realize what I had done and his eyes grew wide as he stared at the hair clenched in my hand. “Now I’ve lost as much hair as you have,” I said and he stood, walking to me and slid his hands through my shorter hair. Tears filled his eyes and he turned away, rubbing them. When he turned back he was smiling,

“Marry me,” he spoke softly and kissed me. My cheeks turned pink,

“I'm only seventeen, I can't.” He simply nodded and kissed me again, taking the hair from my hand.

“I'm gonna miss this, I love long hair,” he muttered and threw it away with a sigh. I just laughed and hugged him.

 

-December 1999-

            “You're like that little lead toy face thing that kids play with,” I was rubbing the top of John's head, which was in my lap, as we waited for Eliza to get home from work so we could open Christmas presents.

“What?”

He was writing on an old notepad that he would not let me read. I chuckled,

“You know, the face and you take the magnet and use the lead to make a beard and hair. Like a human Fuzzy Wuzzy.” John tilted his head back to look at me, bewildered,

“Did you just compare me to the fuzzy wuzzy bear?” I laughed pretty hard for a minute before gasping, “Your head is kind of fuzzy,” and wiped tears from my eyes. “You are ridiculous,” John mumbled, corners of his mouth tugging into a smile. He sat up and cradled my face in his hands before kissing me softly, “I love you.”


	6. January-March 2000

-January 2000-

            Within a month, John's hair started to grow back better and he could be active for short amounts of time without getting too tired. After much arguing John convinced his mother to let him start working again. Most nights, John brought me along to band rehearsals and a few venues when it was not a school night and I quickly learned what he did. Soon I was helping him set up and work with the sound as the bands played. By the end of February I had pretty much decided that I wanted to go to school to be a sound tech. John helped me apply to a local community college, and in the meantime taught me everything he knew and introduced me to all the bands, club owners, and promoters he knew.

-March 2000-

            It was March when John introduced me to brothers he had met at a venue a few years back when the leukemia has just gone into remission. “Ezra this is Geoff and his little brother Michael. You and Michael are around the same age I think.” I smiled at them and shook their hands. Geoff was dark haired and had gentle eyes that Michael shared hidden behind thick rimmed glasses and a curtain of brown hair that swung across his face. Their band, ‘Sister to Sleep’, was decently popular at the local venues. Punk/alternative influences and just a tad of hard rock. They were a little thrashy for my taste, but Geoff’s lyrics were pretty good I had to admit.

John left me with them while he went to set up for the show and we sat down at an empty table, watching as people began to trickle into the bar.

“So you're John's girlfriend?” Geoff was sipping on a beer and I nodded, feeling awkward. “We've been together a year in two weeks.”

Geoff smiled gently, “He loves you, I can tell. I had heard he has a relapse, is he doing okay?” I sighed and rubbed my face with my hands and shrugged. Geoff slid a hand over mine,

“Do you wanna talk?” I shook my head and tried to smile but Geoff wasn't fooled. He stood and handed me my jacket before leading my out to the chilly night air. I wasn’t quite sure why I was following him, but I did.

            He lit two cigarettes, handed one to me, and took a drag before leaning against the brick wall of the bar and turning his head to look at me. I sighed and mumbled,

“We find out this week if he is a candidate for a stem cell transplant. If he's not then...Then there is nothing else they can do. We just wait until-until he dies.” I took a shuddering breath, and realized how much relief I felt just to tell someone what was going on. The cancer was not really something I could talk about to the kids at school. I had pretty well pulled away from all my friends to give John and Eliza all of my attention. Geoff pulled me to him, hugging me gently.

“I know we just met, but if you ever want someone to talk to I don't mind.” He smiled sweetly and I felt myself nodding, feeling grateful that I could talk to someone, even a stranger. We stood in a comfortable silence for a moment and I realized I still had the lit cigarette in my hand. I took an experimental puff and fought the urge to cough. When I exhaled I felt a little dizzy, but the nicotine did the trick and my frayed nerves calmed. Geoff waited until I finished smoking then slid his hand into mine, “Come on, they should be starting soon.” .

            The band was just gearing up when we got back to Michael and John sitting at the table. They looked at us with curiosity as we sat down, John sliding an arm over my shoulder. I just smiled at him and gave him a kiss, settling close. The band was decent, but John kept looking at me funny though the whole thing and I could not really concentrate on the music. During intermission he got up and stalked away to the bar, ordering a beer. He sat on a stool hunched over and I stared at his back, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Is he okay?” Geoff leaned close so Michael wouldn't hear,

“He doesn't ever drink. I don't know what's wrong with him.” I glanced back up to see Johnathan staring at us. I stood and walked to his side, sliding my hand up his back, “Hey, are you okay?” He shrugged,

“I just want to go home.” I frowned, John never wanted to leave work.

“Well okay, if you want to go I can finish up here.” He shoved away from the bar and walked out of the entrance, leaving me to run the sound for the band.

            Geoff insisted on helping me carry John's equipment back to the apartment. It was interesting to be sitting on a bus in Newark with an old amp and two cases full of sound equipment. We trudged up three flights of stairs and I unlocked the apartment, calling to John as I walked in. Silence.

“Just set it there,” I muttered to Gerard and the set the heavy amp down next to the couch, glancing around the room. “Thanks a lot Geoff,” I sighed and he smiled, giving me a wink,

“No problem Ez, remember, you can call me whenever.” He leaned forward and kissed my cheek before heading back out the open door. I shut the door behind him and leaned against it a little, gearing up to deal with Johnathan, whose mood swings were getting worse and worse the closer his results came.

            “What the hell was that?” I jerked around to see John glaring at me from the hallway, arms crossed over his bare, thin chest.

“What was what?” I slid off my jacket and hung it up before turning back to him. He gestured to the door,

“That..him..kissing you..and you letting him.” John's voice was getting steadily angrier, louder.

“What-Oh come on John, really?” His eyes were narrowed and his jaw clenched, “Johnathan. Are you serious? He was being nice, I just met him!”

“Well that didn't stop you from getting his number and letting him kiss you!” He was yelling now and I could feel the shock on my face, which John managed to perceive as guilt. “I knew it! God why did I ever introduce you?” He punched the wall and cursed, gripping his bruised knuckles. I just stared. How could he think that I was interested in Geoff?

“What the fuck is your problem John?” My cussing surprised him so I kept going, “Johnathan I love you, how could you even think that I would ever cheat on you? I just met the guy. Do you really think so lowly of me?” John's eyes softened a little. “Just because you're sick doesn't mean you get to act like this Johnathan Louis. I told you that I was going to stay by your side and I am. I've been here for the past year, how could you not trust me?” John sighed and moved to the couch, sitting heavily on the overstuffed thing.

“Ezra, sit please.” I sat on the other end of the couch, arms crossed in annoyance,

“What John?” He sighed again,

“Ezra, I'm sorry. I just-I look at you every day and I wonder when you're going to realize you can do better.”

“What?”

“You're too good for me Ezmarelda.” He was staring down as his bruised knuckles, sliding his long fingers over them. I felt my anger dissipate,

“Oh John,” I moved closer and slid my hand over his, “I realized that a long time ago, I just don't have anywhere else to stay.” The look on John's face was more than enough to send me over the edge and I guffawed until I couldn't breathe, eyes tearing up. When I finally stopped John was frowning at me,

“That wasn't funny.”

“Well neither was you acting like a jealous asshole, but I managed to get over that.” He cracked a smile and pulled me close, kissing me gently,

“Marry me,” he murmured and I pulled away, annoyed.

“Do you really think that I'm going to say yes to that after you accuse me of having feelings for a guy I just met?” He grinned,

“No, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to try.”

            I groaned and stood, heading to my room, only to have John jump up and wrap his arms around me, “Stay in my room tonight,” he said softly in my ear, kissing my neck.

“Why?”

He chuckled and nuzzled me, “Because I asked you to... please?” I turned around, palms flat against his bare chest,

“Your mom probably wouldn't like it.” He laughed,

“Ezra, she thinks it's weird that we don't sleep in the same room.” I raised an eyebrow,

“Oh really? Well I hate to disappoint Eliza,” and kissed him softly. John grinned and pulled me down the hall, stopping by my room to get me some pajamas. He shut the door firmly behind us, locking it, before turning to me, a sly grin on his face.

“John...”

I backed away until my knees hit the bed, John following closely. He kissed me solidly, pushing back onto the bed, lowering himself gently on top of me. “John,” my voice was shaky.

“Yes?”

He slid a cool hand under my shirt and I gasped, pulling a laugh from John's lips. “John..stop,” he paused and lifted his head a little, gazing down at me, “What's wrong? I though this is what you've been wanting.” He smiled like a pervert and I felt myself blush.

“You make me sound like a whore. Look John, I don't think we're ready for this, that _I'm_ ready for this. I want to, I do…” His eyes softened and he rolled onto the bed, pulling me onto his chest and throwing the covers over us.

“It’s alright. We’ll go slow.”

I scoffed, “I don’t get you,” and he looked confused,” One second you can’t even touch me and the next you’re ready to go all the way. What is going on in your head?”

John sighed and squeezed me tightly, “Mm, Ez I'm sorry. I just…I keep trying to keep you at arm’s length and every time I think I’ve managed it we’re kissing and you’re telling me you love me and to not stop. Ezra, you don't understand what it's going to be like soon. I'm just trying to protect you, and I know you don’t want me to and so I try not to and it just scares the hell out of me to want you this much. I have cancer Ez, there is no happy ending for us.” he hugged me close, whispering, “I'm sorry,” over and over, kissing me gently. I refused to acknowledge the last thing he said. He’s be fine. We’d make it.

“Promise me you’ll stop trying to shelter me so much. I’m a big girl.”

He sighed, “I promise I will try.”

            The third day after John made his promise, the hospital called with his test results. We were sitting down together, it was Eliza's night off, eating dinner when the call came.

            “Hello?” I was breathless from laughing at a joke John's mother had made. “Yes, is there a Mr. Johnathan Reese? This is Newark General.” I swallowed hard, we had been waiting for this call for three weeks,

“Yes he's here.” Johnathan looked up, curious. I walked back to the kitchen table and handed him the phone, “It's the hospital,” John's grin faded and he looked at the phone in his hand with slight fear.

            “Hello? Yes, this is he. You have my test results?” Eliza stood and moved next to me, gripping my hand. “Yes. Yes,” John glanced at the pair of us, then turned away, walking to the back of the apartment where we shared his room, and shut the door behind himself. Eliza and I glanced at each other and I could see the fear and anticipation in her eyes. It was nearly ten minutes later before we heard anything from the back bedroom. We jumped as he heard Johnathan shout and the sound of something crashing against a wall. “John!” I ran to the back room and wrenched on the doorknob, only to find it locked. “Johnathan, open the door!” I pounded on the worn wood as the sounds of chaos emitted from the room. John continued to shout and curse as I begged him to open the door, begged Eliza to get him to open the door. When I turned, I could see the older woman sitting slumped over in the kitchen, face in her hands. I turned back when I heard the lock click and I turned the knob, nearly knocking John over with the door.

            His face was red from where his nails has been drug down it. The room was a mess, the lamp that generally sat on his old desk, was next to our feet, shattered.

“John?”

            His eyes were downcast, his chest was heaving, “Johnathan, please...” I tried to touch his shoulder, but he jerked away. I stopped the hurt from showing on my face as I moved into the room and shut the door. I ignored John's shaking form and went to the dresser, opening the top drawer where some of my clothes then resided. I’d started sleeping in his room after he asked three days before. Picking out my pajamas, I started to change, only to have John turn me around and shoved me against the dresser. His eyes were distracted as he yanked the pajamas out of my hand and pulled my shirt the rest of the way off.

“John?” I framed his face with my hands, trying to get him to look at me.

“Don't,” he whispered, long fingers curling around my wrists to pull my hands away, “Just let me...” He kissed me.   

            The kiss wasn't like his usual ones, soft and loving. Instead, it was like kissing a stranger, John was so detached it almost felt wrong to let him touch me. John pulled me towards the bed, then pushed me firmly down onto its surface. Within moments he had his shirt and both of our pants off, moving onto the bed, straddling me. I was shaking nervously as he kissed me, skinny body moving against mine. “John,” it was barely a whisper but he stopped, looking into my eyes. There was so much disappointment and hurt in his eyes that I could not bring myself to tell him to stop. Instead I swallowed and raised my head, kissed him firmly, then leaned back. With a nod and a shuddering breath, I turned my face away, letting John continue what he started.

            The pain made me yelp and a knock on the door made John growl, “Go away!” his body rigid with tension.

“Ezra, are you okay?” Eliza's voice was brittle and I managed to call,

“Yes I'm fine,” without sounding too shaky. Silence followed and Johnathan resumed his movement, making me groan softly. His breathing became labored as his movements became more frantic. I clung to his sweat slicked back, trying to be as quiet as possible. John shuddered with a groan, moving jerkily as he thrust once...twice...before going rigid, panting.

            He nearly collapsed on top of me as his shaking arms gave out, rolling to the side at the last moment. I listened to the sound of his breathing, feeling shaky and weak.

“Ezra?” I turned my face towards his, “Never mind.”

John rolled onto his side, back facing me, and didn't say another word, eventually falling asleep. I pulled the comforter over my naked body, curling up as far away from my sick boyfriend as possible. With a shuddering breath I closed my eyes, willing myself to sleep.

            John would not even look at me the next morning as we dressed. I wore long sleeves to cover the bruises he had made on my upper arms and we left the room together, practically like strangers. Eliza was on the phone, talking quietly as we entered the kitchen. Usually on Saturday mornings we ate a big breakfast, but Eliza's face was drawn and her eyes were tired. I slipped some bread in the toaster and poured a glass of orange juice while it toasted. John simply grabbed a piece of bread and headed towards the front door. I watched as he slid on his jacket and left the apartment without as much as a glance back. I sat at the able and quietly picked at my bread, tearing it into tiny pieces instead of eating it. Eliza hung up the phone and sat heavily at the table with a cup of coffee.

“I've been on the phone with the transplant people all morning. They said we can try again after another round of chemo,” she sighed and looked at me, taking in my drawn face and lack of appetite, she was suddenly concerned, “Ezra what happened last night?” I swallowed and shrugged,

“Nothing,” and stood to throw away my uneaten bread.


	7. April/May 2000

-April 2000-   

            We fell into a routine after that. Eliza and John worked constantly while I finished up my senior year at school. Our one year anniversary went by without comment. At night when it was just John and I, we had a silent dinner before going to bed. He no longer touched me with a loving hand, only the occasional kiss that seemed more routine than from affection. He never asked me to come along to venues, but I sometimes still did. Eliza noticed the rift that was forming between her son and me, but she made no comment as she was preoccupied with trying to find a way to make John better. Geoff called twice in April, the first time to check in, the second time to offer to meet me so we could talk. I accepted the request, telling him to meet me at the cafe where I used to play before John had gotten sick again.

            “How are you?” Geoff's face was worried as he looked me over. I imagine I looked a mess, tired and sad.

“I'm fine, it's John who isn't. I don't know how to help him. He wasn't a candidate for the transplant and now they want to talk about another round of chemotherapy. It's just a big mess.” I buried my face in my hands. Geoff's hand was gentle as it slid slowly back and forth across my back.

“Have you tried to talk to him about it? Tried to get in his head a little, figure out what's going on?” I threw up my hands,

“I have! He just ignores me ever since-” I stopped talking quickly. No one knew that John and I had slept together and I wanted to keep it that way.

“Ezra?” I shrugged,

“Ever since he found out about the transplant he has been pushing me away and shutting me out. I'm trying to help but I can't get through to him.” Geoff looked around that the park that surrounded us and sighed,

“I don't know what to say. John won't talk to any of us about it at the clubs. He just does his job and keeps to himself now. It's a little weird. Even when he went through the chemo before, he wasn't so withdrawn. What is so different this time?” I felt a lump rise in my throat,

“He thinks he is going to die. He doesn't want to fight anymore.” Geoff cursed under his breath and put his arm around me.

“I hope you're wrong.”

-May 2000-

            The second week of May I graduated with honors. My mother, grandparents, John, and Eliza were all there when I walked up the stairs of the auditorium. My mother's hug was awkward and I found myself leaning into Eliza's side, trying to gain strength through her. She squeezed my hand briefly, but I could tell she was exhausted from trying to keep up with John as he spiraled out of control. When we finally got back to the apartment, I could feel my reserve breaking. John waited by our bedroom door for me, eyes on the wall. With a deep breath I threw open the door to the spare room and shut it firmly behind me, turned the lock, and leaned heavily against the wood.

            I had spent nearly a week back in my old room when I awoke one morning and stared at the ceiling for a moment before I turned on my side and saw a piece of paper on the bed next to me with my name on it.

            'Ezra, I can only try to apologize for the way that I've treated you lately. I don't expect you to forgive me, but please just wait until tonight before you give up on me for good. I love you more than words could ever say.’ -John

            My chest was tight as I read the note. I glanced up to see another on my door.

'Enjoy a hot breakfast, I made all of your favorites. -John'

            I walked into the hallway and looked for him before heading to the kitchen when I realized the apartment was empty. Sausage, biscuits, gravy, orange juice, waffles, and fruit were all piled onto the kitchen table and I stared in amazement at the amount of food. I sat down to eat and noticed another note on the refrigerator. Curious, I grabbed it real quick and sat back down, taking a big bite of biscuit.

'When you finish eating, look in the box on the living room table. - John'

            I ate slowly, thinking about how much trouble John had went through to set this all up and whether or not I was ready to forgive him. The past week had been very tense. I thought John had been ignoring me before, but that was nothing compared to the week following me moving out of our room. Eliza just watched in silence as John acted like I didn’t exist and I focused on anything but him. She only sighed and left us alone.

            When I finished breakfast, I washed my dishes and set them on the rack to dry before I walked into the living room and sat down. I pulled the small box into my lap and looked inside. There was another note, movies, popcorn, and a book. I opened the note,

            'I remember you said you loved this book, but never got around to buying it. Just relax today, you deserve it. You've been taking care of me and now it's my turn to take care of you. Until you watch all of the movies, don't leave the living room. I love you, please go along with this. -John'

            The book was ‘The Vampire Lestat’ by Anne Rice and I found myself smiling a little as I opened the front cover. I read the first few pages before I reluctantly put down the book and picked up the movies, looking at them one by one. There were three and all three were old school black and white romances with actors the younger generation had never heard of. I shook my head and smiled before I opened the first one and put it in the VCR before settling onto the couch. I had woken up at ten-thirty and by the time the movies were over I had eaten the popcorn and was starting to get real hungry. Just as _Casablanca_ ended there was a knock on the door. I stood and stretched before I opened the door, confused when the delivery guy from Mike's pizza was on the other side.

“I got a large pepperoni pizza and green pepper pizza with extra cheese for you.”

“I didn't order a pizza.”

            The delivery guy smiled, “Maybe not, but it's paid for and I can't take it back, besides, I think you'll be interested in having the note that comes with it.” He pulled a wrinkled piece of paper out of his back pocket.

“Alright, fork it over,” I said, and took the pizza and the note muttering, “Thank you,” before I shut the door in his face. John was really going overboard with the whole thing, and it was beginning to wear me down. So forward, so demanding of everyone without realizing it. I sighed as I plopped down on the couch and shoved nearly half a piece of pizza in my mouth as I read the note.

            'Ezra, I know this is probably getting old real quick,” I'd say so, “but you have got to just ride it out. It's going to all be worth it in the end. It should be late afternoon by now or close to it and I knew that you would be hungry. Enjoy the pizza and I'll see you soon. -John p.s. Check under the sink in the bathroom.'

            I sincerely hoped that the letter was right, and that it would all be worth it. Because as much as I loved John, I did not feel as if I could go through another round of hurt and disappointment. As I ate, I weighed the pros and cons of John and mine's relationship. For every good month, there were generally two bad ones. Even though John claimed to love me, he was constantly treating me like a stranger. The night may be worth all the notes and deliveries, but I wasn't sure it was going to be worth the relationship.

            'Check under the sink in the bathroom' led me to a little box of bath things and a cassette tape labeled 'Repentance'. I trudged into the room John and I used to share and got his boom box, before turning on the bath. The box contained bath salts, so I poured those in there along with some bubble bath. Next I put in the cassette and hit play, undressing as the first song started.

“She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes.

She can ruin your faith with her casual lies.

She only reveals what she wants you to see.

She hides like a child but she's always a woman to me.”

            While Billy Joel sang to me, I slipped into the steaming hot bath and closed my eyes, humming along. After Mr. Joel was Elvis, David Bowie, Elton John, and an assortment of other love songs by artists I wasn't very sure about. I was getting out of the tub, feeling very relaxed when the last song began.

“Oooh you're making me live.

Whatever this world can't give to me.

It's you, you're all I see.

Ooooh you're making me live now honey,

oooh you're making me live.

Ahh you're the best friend that I ever had.

I've been with you such a long time.

You're my sunshine and I want you to know that my feelings are true

I really love you,

ah you're my best friend.”

            That cheater. Freddy Mercury was my weakness and he was exploiting it on purpose to get me to forgive him. I toweled dry as I sang along, not really mad, but telling myself that I was. I wrapped the towel around myself as I rewound the tape a little and started the song again, turning the boom box up louder as I walked out of the steaming hot bathroom. I sang as I dressed, feeling the most relaxed and happy as I had felt in months. The song ended just as the door to my room opened behind me, creaking as it did. I whirled around, heart in my throat to see John, looking tired but happy standing behind me. “Ezra,” he breathed and covered the space between us, his hands sliding into my hair as he kissed me like he hadn't seen me in months.

            I pulled away a little, “John...What is this all about?”

“What?”

“All of this...today. The notes, the breakfast, the movies and the bath. What are you playing at?”

            He looked genuinely hurt, “Ezra I'm not playing at anything. I missed our anniversary, I was trying to be romantic not to mention trying to make up for me being such a tool the past couple of months. You don't deserve the way I treat you sometimes. You not coming to bed with me last week made me realize how bad I was acting. How much of a jerk I must have been to you to push you away so much that you wouldn't even sleep in the same room as me anymore. I'm so sorry Ezra, I really am.”

I took a deep breath, “What about the sex?”

“What?”

“The day you found out that you didn't qualify for the stem cell transplant. You...we..” my voice caught and I could see the realization in his eyes.

“Oh Ezra...” he breathed and hugged me tightly to his chest. “You didn't ask me to stop.”

“How could I? You had just found out that you couldn't get the surgery that would save your life!”

“I was upset, but I never meant to hurt you.”

I couldn't help it, I scoffed, “Bullshit.” And he looked genuinely hurt.

“Ezra, please. I am sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, I was just so lost and confused. I found out that I was going to die.”

I couldn't stop myself from glaring at John as I pushed him away, “You think I don't know that? That's why I didn't say no.”

“I wish you would have.”

“Why?”

“Because, that wasn't the way it should have been. I should have made a big deal about it and told you I loved you. Instead I fucked you and wouldn't even look at you for days.”

“Why wouldn't you?”

            John sat heavily on the bed, “Because I was disgusted with myself for doing that to you. I love you so much Ezra and I didn't know how to make it up to you, and to make it worse, you just forgave me and acted like everything was normal. I made myself sick and I felt like I didn't deserve to be around you.” He was staring at his feet. “Hey,” I murmured softly, lifting his chin up. The tears in his eyes made my heart hurt. “I love you, I’m not going anywhere,” I stated and he blinked a few times, looking hopeful. His hands slid up my arms as he stood. “You're too good for me,” he muttered and I laughed a little, “Don't I know it.”

            John hurried out the room after that with a grin on his face and I finished getting dressed. When I walked out of the room I was led to the kitchen by the smell of cooking food that made my mouth water. John busy at the stove, stirring a pot of something and I sat tat the kitchen table, sniffing appreciatively. Whenever John walked past me for something he would kiss my head, which made me smile. I was about to complain that I was getting tired of waiting when he announced,

“All done,” and I stood to see what he had made for our dinner. I have four words for you, and they are the four best words in the world: Shake 'n' Bake pork-chops. I mean they looked so damn good I wanted to eat them right off of the pan. In the pot was homemade mashed potatoes and in a bowl next to them were green peas.

            “Do you like it?” John sounded nervous and I moved a little closer to him,

“Could you hand me a plate? I'm starving.”

He grinned and kissed me, lingering before handing me the plate I had asked for. He sat down while I piled the food on high and I noticed the bags under his eyes. I sat my plate on the table and knelt in front of him, my hunger forgotten.

“Hey,” he looked at me, “John are you okay?” He smiled,

“I'm fine, just a little tired. I'm sure once I eat I’ll feel better.” I made him a plate and sat it in front of him, sliding my hand across his pale cheek, loving how the stubble made my palm tingle. John leaned into my hand, eyes closed and gave a little sigh of content before he opened his eyes and smiled. I sat close to him while we ate, our knees touched. After dinner, John produced a tub of Oreo ice cream and two large spoons.

            Feeling stuffed, John instructed me to go sit on the couch and close my eyes. I did as I was told, placing my hands over my eyes and listened to John move around the large apartment. I heard the click of a lighter and wondered if John was going to set the place on fire.

“Can I look yet?”

More sounds of movement,

“No, just wait, it'll be worth it.”

I sighed but waited. I felt Johnathan sit on the couch next to me and clear his throat,

“Day after day I'm more confused,

Yet I look for the light through the pouring rain.

You know that's a game that I hate to lose.

And I'm feeling the strain

Ain't it a shame?”

            My heart thudded in my chest. I knew the sound of that guitar, I had grown up with that beautiful sound. I slid my fingers apart and peeked through, scared and excited to see it. John's long fingers strummed lovingly on my father's old acoustic guitar, the one I had smashed against a wall a year earlier. I felt myself gasp and choke on the questions that were trying to all come out at once. John's eyes were full of love as he sang to me and I finally paid attention to the song, dragging my eyes away from the repaired guitar.

“Thanks for the joy that you've given me.

I want you to know that I believe in your song

Rhythm and rhyme and harmony.

You've helped me along, you're making me strong.”

            As much as I hate to admit it, I cried. When a boy plays you a song on your dead father's guitar that you thought you had lost forever, it is like you are required to cry. The minute the tears started coursing my down cheeks John put the guitar down and pulled me into his arms. I remember saying, “Thank you” and “I love you” a lot while John held me and stroked my hair. It took a little while, but I ran out of tears and John kissed me, ignoring my wet face.

“Salty,” he teased, which made me laugh and I groaned a little.

“You realize that make me cry all of the time right?” He smiled,

“Must mean you really love me,” and got off of the couch, looking nervous.

“John?” He knelt at my feet,

            “Ezmarelda Dahlia Rollins, I love you more than you could ever realize,” I felt my stomach clench, “You have stayed with me through probably the worst year of my life, which has also made it the best year.” I swallowed hard, “I don't think I could spend another night without waking up to see you next to me.” John pulled a ring out of his jeans pocket, “My dad gave this ring to my mother when they were young and they loved each other shamelessly until the day that he died. I know that this is a selfish thing to ask, but I want you to marry me. I want you and I to have the same love that our parents did; one that lasts after death. This is a hard thing that I'm asking you to do, but I can't live without you. Please, will you marry me?”

            I didn't know what to say. John was looking at me expectantly. It seemed like he expected me to say yes.

“John,” the hurt on his face made it hard for me to swallow. He stood and shoved the ring in his pocket. “John, wait.” I grabbed his hand but he pulled away, saying softly,

“I guess I shouldn't have expected you to say yes, I am dying. It was selfish of me to ask, mom was mad when I asked for the ring,” he laughed hollowly, “Guess she was right.” I didn't know what to do. The obvious reasons of being too young, we had no money, we lived with his mother, and he was dying were exactly why I couldn't say yes. And there was the fact he slipped in and out of depression on a monthly basis. I had seen what losing my father and done to my mother. For all I loved John and wanted to stay with him until the end, marriage was just to final and scary at 17. I didn’t want to go, but a ring was too much.

            I watched John as he blew out the candles and cleaned up around me, feeling unsure as to where we stood.

“I'm tired love,” the dark circles under his eyes were testimony to that fact, “Will you come to bed with me?” I nodded and placed my hand into his outstretched one. He led me to our room and we changed into our sleep clothes in silence before John pulled me into bed with him and wrapped his arms tightly around me.

“I'm sorry.”

I whispered and felt Johnathan take a deep breath and let it out slowly,

            “There is nothing to be sorry about Ez. I love you and will have you however you will let me.”

I turned around in his arms, a thought provoking me. I could just make out his face in the darkness and I slid my hand over his face, again enjoying the feel of the stubble. When I kissed him, John slid a hand to my lower back and pulled me a little closer. I pushed against him a little, making him lay flat on bed before moving myself a little on top of him. He hesitantly slid his hands down my sides, one stopping to rest gently on my butt. We had been kissing for a while when I pulled away to slide my tank top off and over my head.

            “What are you doing?” he rasped as his long fingers moved over my bare skin.

“Take off your clothes,” Jonathan just stared, “You said you’d have me however, so have me,” I murmured and moved off the bed. John sat up and watched as I slid my shorts down and stepped out of them, leaving me in my bra and underwear.

“Turn on the light,” his voice had a weird edge to it and when I didn't move, he rolled over and stretched out on the bed to turn on the lamp on the table next to it. I could feel my face turn red in the bright light as John moved to the edge of the bed and looked me over. He gently grabbed my hand in his and pulled me closer and rested his cheek against my chest. I slid my hands into his short tawny colored hair and kissed the top of his head gently. John's thin arms tightened around my lower back and he raised his face up to look up at me.

“Take off your clothes,” I said again and unwrapped his arms from around my waist. Face serious, he stood and pulled his wife-beater over his head, tossing it to the side before he kissed me, hands on either side of my face. My hands slid over his shoulders, his chest, and his stomach. I felt sad at weight he had lost and the fact I could feel the ridges of his sternum. John pulled away slowly and moved my hands to the waistband of his sleep-pants,

“Make me.” His usual smile was back and I cracked up a little and slapped at his chest, pushing him away some. John laughed lowly pulled me back to him, nuzzling my neck before pushing down his sleep-pants and boxers with an unneeded flourish.

            “Your turn,” he said with a grin and looked at me expectantly. I laughed again and shoved him into sitting on the bed before I slipped the straps of my bra off and unhooked it, arm over my chest, and pulled it away from my body. I tossed the garment into John's lap and he grinned even bigger. I smiled sweetly and slowly moved my arm away from my chest, lip sliding in-between my teeth. I didn't need to worry as it turned out because almost as soon as I moved my arm away, John had me in his arms and beneath him on the bed. We both laughed as he kissed me and I felt content as he laid heavily against me.

“I can't breathe, you cow,” I wheezed and John laughed loudly before sitting up, legs straddling me.

“I am not big,” he muttered and looked down at himself, a grin growing on his face, “At least not where it doesn't matter.” I followed his eyes down and felt my face turn red at the sight of....well, that. John gave me a satisfied expression and leaned back down to kiss me, then slid my underwear down my legs and tossed them to the other side of the room. I turned my face away as he looked down at me, “Hey,” he murmured and I looked at him. His face was serious as he looked at me and said softly, “Nice tits.”

            At first it took me a second to realize what he had just said. Then I was mortified, angry, and tickled all at the same time. My face red, I managed to choke out,

“What!?” while John continued to look down at my naked body. The usual smirk appeared,

“Exactly what I just said,” he leaned close, “Nice...fucking… tits.”

“You're ridiculous,” I muttered and he grinned,

“I try.”

We laughed together for a moment before I wriggled beneath him a little, making his smile falter.

“We ever going to do this?” I slid my hand down his stomach and he caught it just before my fingers curled around him.

“Ezra,” I looked up at him, “I don't want to hurt you again.” I bit my lip,

“You didn't.”

“Yes I did.”

“Well I 'm okay with that, it couldn't be avoided.”

“No. You don't understand.”

“Okay?”

“Ezra, I ruined a moment that should have been very important to us. We can't ever get it back.”

            It hurt a little, to think about that night, but I knew he wasn't completely there and I had forgiven John months earlier. I sat up to kiss him deeply, “Sure we can,” I whispered against his lips.

            The next morning when I woke up, I was sore everywhere, which brought a grin to my face and I rolled over to watch John as he slept. His mouth hung open a little and his curly hair brushed against his forehead, making him look younger. John's skinny chest rose and fell steadily while one of his legs jutted out from underneath the blanket which hardly covered any of his tall frame. Unable to resist myself I slid closer and kissed down his neck to his chest to his stomach, smiling when his hand slid up my neck and into my hair, gripping gently. That go around hurt and didn't hurt at the same time, and when we finished, I collapsed onto John's rapidly rising and falling chest, sweat making my hair stick to my face.

“If you were any louder, you would have woke the neighbors,” I panted and he chuckled,

“What can I say? I'm a screamer.”

We laid there for a little while before our stomachs started to growl and I got up to make us breakfast. Eliza was just getting home from her shift when we finished and she looked at me expectantly. I didn't realize why until she took my hand in hers and peered at it before sighing softly and shaking her head, before she dropped it and trudged off to her bedroom. I swallowed and looked at John, whose face had fallen as he remembered what had happened last night before we slept together. His hand dug into his pocket and he pulled out the ring, setting it on the table and staring at it before picking it back up as he stood and walked out of the kitchen and to our room. I sat heavily in one of the chairs and sighed. Fantastic.


	8. July-December 2000

-July 2000-

            “I still don't get why I have to take all these core classes when they basically have nothing to do with what I'm majoring in,”

John and I were walking around a department store, getting supplies for school. I had been accepted to the community college I had applied to and had a full scholarship. John shrugged,

“It's so you're well rounded I suppose, you'll need math for what we do.” He picked up a few spiral notebooks and threw them into the buggy. I grumbled a little then mulled over the type of pen I wanted. John fiddled with a few folders before he turned suddenly, mouth open to speak. I waited patiently as he rethought then asked quietly,

“Do you love me?” I tensed as the meaning behind the words and turned back to the pens, “Johnathan do not do this right now, please.” He clenched and unclenched his fists,

“Why not? You've been avoiding the subject for two months, why not talk about it here? This is as good a place as any.” His jaw was set and I knew I was in for a long one. I sighed and rubbed my face with my hands. I picked up a set of pens and threw them into the buggy,

“Let's go,” I said lowly and stalked off to the checkout counter.

            We sat silently in the car in the parking lot, windows down, a light breeze rolling through. John refused to start the car and I was beginning to lose patience.

“Johnathan Reese start the damn car. We are going to be late,” We had a gig at a club in an hour, but Johnathan did not seem bothered,

“Not until we talk about this.” I slammed my hands on the dash, “You really want to talk about this? Right now? In the fucking K-Mart parking lot? Fine. Yes, I love you. No, I do not want to marry you. I am only seventeen John and I think it is a little too soon to be getting married. No it is not because of the cancer, you know I don't care about that. I do not care that you are dying, I will stay. I am just not ready to be married,” I took a deep breath, “Is that good enough for you? Can we please go to the fucking gig now?” John would not look at me as he turned on the car and jerked it into gear, driving a little too quickly and erratically for my taste.

-September 2000-

            Things were tense for the next two months and by the time my eighteenth birthday rolled around I had had enough. I knew I wasn’t going anywhere so why not? It’s just a piece of paper.

            I was sitting on John and I's bed after getting home from a gig, guitar in my lap, strumming heavily on the strings,

“Look into my eyes and you'll see I'm the only one you’ve captured my love Stolen my heart Changed my life “

            “That sounds good darling,” John was standing in the doorway, big wrapped box in his hand. I blushed and tucked my then shoulder length hair behind my ear,

“I have a Queen addiction.” John's eyes narrowed, “What's that?” I looked around,

“What's what?” He pointed to my arm,

“That on your hand.” I glanced down at the diamond engagement ring on my left ring finger and shrugged,

“Just something I found.” John put the box down next to the doorway and walked closer.

“Sing for me.” he murmured and slid a hand over my cheek, making my head light with pleasure.

“Every time you make a move You destroy my mind And the way you touch I lose control and shiver deep inside You take my breath away”

            John pulled the guitar out of my hands, whispering, “Beautiful,” before pushing me back onto the bed with his body.

            John had me resting against his chest afterward, hand sliding up and down my back, the other one holding my left hand up so he could see the ring. “You forgot to close the door,” I murmured and he just shrugged, still looking at my hand. “What made you change your mind?”

“What did you get me for my birthday?” I asked quickly and kissed his cheek, causing him to shoot me a questioning look.

“What? Oh yeah, hold on.” He moved out from under me and stood before walking over the the door and grabbing the gift. John closed the door with his foot then jumped onto the bed, making me giggle. I unwrapped the box and wrenched it open, peering inside. A carton of cigarettes, some lottery tickets and what looked like a glass dildo sat in the bottom. I pulled out the dildo and glanced at the tag that dangled from it.

“Art deco?” John nodded,

“It's a conversation starter.” I raised an eyebrow and poked him with the funny looking thing, making him laugh. “I figured you should enjoy the generic eighteen year old things.” I giggled and kissed him,

“I will,” I murmured and he squeezed me tightly,

“When can we start telling people?” I shrugged and took a deep breath before I let it out and said quietly, “Mrs. Ezmarelda Reese. Ezra Reese… Hmm, not bad.”

-October 2000-

            I rubbed John's back gently as his whole body heaved. “Ezra, go, I mean it,” he choked out in-between goes. I shook my head, a grim smile on my lips,

“John I've seen you throw up before, it's fine.” The nurses looked sympathetic as John finally stopped and sat there, gasping quietly.

“It's not going to work.” he mumbled and I pretended to ignore him, hoping he was wrong. He managed a chuckled and sighed, “This is the worst birthday ever.” I squeezed him a little.

            When we got home John was in a funk so I pulled out my guitar and started playing a few songs, trying to lighten his mood. After a little while he smiled a little and picked up his guitar and sat cross legged in front of me. We did not play actual songs, just a few chords here, sang a line or two there, we mostly just smiled at each other and joked around. A flash from the corner of my eye made me turn to see Eliza standing in the doorway, Polaroid camera in her hand. “Couldn't resist,” she said softly and leaned against the doorway. John smiled and leaned back, holding out his hand for the photo. Eliza handed it over then said, “Dinner will be ready in just a little bit,” and shut the door softly behind herself. John looked at the picture, grinned, and then handed it to me before strumming a few notes on his guitar.

            We were playing, our heads down, legs crossed, but you could just tell that John was looking at me, not his guitar. He had a small smile on his lips and I looked up at him to see he was watching me, singing softly,

“When I was a young boy My mama said to me There's only one girl in the world for you And she probably lives in Tahiti I'd go the whole wide world I'd go the whole wide world Just to find her”

            I grinned and hummed along only to have John pull me to him suddenly, lips against mine. Our guitars clanged together and he just pushed them aside. Hands on either side of my face, he had me caught and when he finally pulled away I was gasping for breath a little.

“You could warn me next time,” I said breathlessly and he just grinned,

“And miss you blushing? I don't think so.” I stuck my tongue out at him and he raised an eyebrow. I held up my hands,

“No, I surrender,” and he wrapped his arms around me, lips pressed to my forehead.

“Thank you for this,” he murmured gently and I smiled,

“No problem.” We sat there for a moment then John said softly,

“I want to show you something,” and leaned over the side of the bed, returning with a box full of paper. I sifted through it and realized it was music, music John had written. Some were only a few notes, others were full melodies, just no words. A few were words and no music.

“What is all this? I didn't know you wrote.” Johnathan just shrugged, “I don't really. This is all from the past year or so, since I've been with you. I've always wanted to write, I just didn't have a reason to.” I raised an eyebrow,

“Johnathan Reese are you saying I'm your muse?” He laughed,

“Maybe,” and took the box back, sifting through it until he found a legal pad, the one I had seen him writing on months before. “Don't just me too harshly,” he joked as he handed me the paper then picked back up his guitar,

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry for all these things I've put you though,

and I'm sorry to leave you all alone with nothing but these words

and a promise that I will wait for you.”

He frowned a little, “I can't seem to get much further than that. It's a start I guess. I just want to get it finished before... you know.” I could not look at him, “Ezra?” I could feel my face flushing and the hot tears as they fell down my cheeks. “Oh Ezra, I'm sorry,” I shook my head and held up a hand,

“It's fine, I just don't like to be reminded.” John stared,

“You're kidding right? Ezra look at me, I'm a constant reminder every day.” I looked up at his hairless face and bald head, his pale skin and chapped lips. All I saw was John, not the cancer. I told him so and he shook his head, “You are so weird,” and pulled me into a hug.

-December 2000-

            We found out a week before Christmas that John was not in remission and it was necessary to do a second round of chemo, then try again for the stem cell transplant. Johnathan refused at first, saying that he was done, but the doctors managed to convince him to give it one last chance before giving up completely. I decided to take off school for the next semester, knowing that John was going to need a lot of help. Johnathan hated that I put college off for him, but I made it clear it was what I wanted and he kept his opinions to himself after that. Christmas was spent comfortably on the couch, small and perfect. The doctors were hopeful that John could be a candidate and we were clinging to that hope, knowing it was over otherwise.


	9. January-July 2001

-January 2001-

“No more.” Johnathan's voice was hoarse and I handed him the cup of water in my hand. He took it silently and took a few swallows before giving it back. Dr. Crawford was shaking her head,

“Johnathan if we don't do another aggressive round of chemotherapy we can't beat this.” John scoffed,      

“Bullshit. You said that in October Doc, and look where it's gotten me; bald and barely able to walk. No, I'm done. This is done. I don't qualify for the transplant, it's over. We put up a hell of a fight, but I am tired. I just want to get out of this hospital and go home with my fiancée and relax until my time comes. Thank you very much for your time and efforts. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to pull through this. Have a good day Dr. Crawford.”

Johnathan stood and offered his hand to me, which I had no option except to take and he led me out of the doctor's private office. John's second go at chemo had went worse than the first, making him sick for weeks. It was nearly February, and we had just starting to be able to eat decent sized meals.

“Your mom isn't going to like this John,” I said softly as we got into the car and he just shrugged and gestured for me to buckle up. I did not like it either, but I felt I had no right to argue with him. It was his body, he knew his limits.

-March 2001-

            The night of our two year anniversary John took me to dinner. It was a pleasant enough evening until John's nose began to pour blood and we had to take him to the hospital. We spent the rest of the night in the hospital room just talking about anything and everything other than the cancer.

            “Should I do the chemo?” It was late and John's voice was sleepy. I stroked his cheek,

“I don't know. I want you healthy, but I don't even know if that's possible anymore.” John sighed,

“I don't think it is.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly,

“It is your decision,” and he sighed,

“I don't want to leave you, I love you. I want you to know that, but I just can't do this anymore. Something is different this time. I just feel so sick.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and refused to cry,

“Then we're done. No more chemotherapy, no more hospitals, just us.” He smiled gently,

“Now we can get married finally.” I just smiled tightly back.

-June 2001-

            June 18th 2001, I will never forget that day. It started like all the other days of that month had. I got up early and made John a small breakfast and brought it to him in bed. He was starting to get weak by that point. When we went to gigs he just came to watch while I set everything up. Dr. Crawford had given him to the end of the year at the most before the cancer killed him. I had managed to keep the thought of John dying from bothering me up until the eighteenth. Around noon Eliza called me, it was her lunch break I assumed, and she asked me to bring John down to the cafe where we used to play. She hung up before I could ask her why so I just went to our bedroom to get John up and help him get dressed. He kept asking me why where were going to the cafe but I couldn't give him an answer, so he finally gave up and leaned against me as we walked down to the bus stop on the corner.

I could tell the bus ride was too long. The last few blocks John was grimacing with every bump and shake. We exited the bus and walked slowly to the cafe, enjoying the summer day. Paper lined the inside of the windows of the cafe and John and I looked at each other in confusion as we opened the front door. It was dark inside until the lights flashed on and a large group of people shouted,

“Surprise!” making me yelp and John slide an arm around me protectively. There was a banner over the bar that read, 'Congratulations' and the chairs were arranged so that there was a small aisle leading up to the performance stage.

“What's going on?” I was completely confused until John leaned and whispered in my ear, “I think this is our wedding.” Eliza and my mother stepped out of the crowd and smiled at us.

“I called the Dream Foundation and asked if they could help us make your wedding happen. Ezra has been taking care of you so much, she hasn't had time to plan anything. The people at the Dream Foundation called me up last month and we got all of this set up. You're getting married baby, just like you wanted.” Eliza was beaming.

            John's grip on my side tightened and he pulled me away, mumbling, “Excuse us,” and took me outside.

“John?” he was pacing a little, hands in his pockets. He ignored me for a minute then suddenly stopped and looked me dead in the face,

“Do you want to marry me?” I stared,

“I'm here aren't I?”

“Yes, but we never actually planned this.”

“We would have.”

“Are you sure?” I held up a hand,

“What?”

“I think that if my mother hadn't planned this we wouldn't have ever gotten married. And...I think that I was okay with that. I wouldn't be making you a widow.”

            I couldn't speak for a moment, “Are you saying that you don't want to get married now?”

“Do you?”

            I snapped my mouth shut and John nodded, “It's scary to think about isn't it? Before it was just a dream and now, ironically, The Dream Foundation has made it come true. So I'm going to ask you again, do you want to marry me?” I looked at him, took in his tall, skinny frame. Thought about the first night we met and every night that had followed. I thought about our fights, his depression, my age, the future, and his death. I thought about it all and with deep breath said firmly, “I do,” and slid my hand into his.

            My mother helped me change into a simple white gown that took my breath away. She said she had seen it at a boutique and just knew it would be perfect. She smiled at me in the mirror as she styled my hair in a simply, pretty bun and put a little hair clip in for decoration. We opted against make up in case I cried and we stood at the door for a moment, waiting to be told it was time to start. I stared at the door and whispered, “I'm glad you're here,” not looking at her. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her wipe away a tear and nod, “I'm glad I'm here too.” Music began to play and she opened the door so I could walk through.

            My eyes scanned the crowd and I saw my grandparents, a few nurses I knew, other sound techs John knew and a few people I couldn't place before they locked onto Geoff’s face. Geoff waved from his seat, and I nodded back, heart pounding. He gave me a thumbs up and a smile and I smiled back before looking up to see John was staring right back at me, clad in a fitted tux with a blue tie. His eyes were shining and he was grinning like a fool as he watched me walk up the aisle, my mother by my side. She kissed my cheek once we got to the pastor and John then went to sit down. John's thin fingers slid over my hands as the pastor told the congregation to be seated then turned to us.

            “Dearly beloved we are gathered here today for a special occasion, Johnathan Louis Reese has battled cancer for many years, and he has finally found a woman to help battle it with him. Ezmarelda Dahlia Rollins has been by John's side for over two years now, and I am honored to marry these two extraordinary people here today.” He turned to John, “Johnathan Reese do you promise to love and care for this woman, to put her above all others, and to never let her go until death do you part?” John's blue eyes found mine and he said breathlessly, “I do.”

            The pastor turned to me then, “Ezra Rollins to you promise to love and care for this man, to put him above all others, and to never let him go until death do you part?” I flinched at the death part, I couldn't help it, and John smiled sympathetically. I glanced out at the gathering of people then back to John, my mind going a mile a minute with the implications of what was about to happen. The pastor started to look a little uneasy but John just grinned, “I love you Ezra, I'm happy with you by my side whether as my girlfriend of my wife.” I swallowed and looked up at the pastor, “I do.”

-July 2001-

            “Remember when you thought you were pregnant?” I nodded, arms crossed tightly against my chest. It had been just after the wedding. Johnathan had argued vehemently against me keeping the baby. “Well then you remember how I didn't want you to have the baby because when I died it would be a constant reminder of me. I didn't want you to have to raise it alone and I felt guilty? But then you turned out not to be and we didn't have to worry about it?” I clenched my jaw, my stomach turning at the thought and murmured.

“Your point?” John pulled me a little closer,

“My point, Ezra, is that there is no point in staying-” I punched him hard in the shoulder and John yelped in pain.

“You punched me! Why did you punch me?”

“Why did you ask me what you just asked me?”

“Because you need to think about your future Ezra!”

“Yeah well you needed a good punch in the shoulder. So we're even.”

“We are nowhere near even, you punched me in the damn shoulder.”

            I bit my lip and looked down at John's serious face. The bags under his eyes were dark and his cheek bones were prominent and his lips chapped. It was mean of me to have punched him, John was too sick to even sit up for more than five minutes at a time. I sighed heavily and slipped on the bed with him, settling my face against his neck.

“I'm sorry I hit you John, but you kind of deserved it.” He chuckled softly and ran his this fingers through my hair,

“I guess.” John kissed my cheek and wrapped his thin arms around me. “You know, I only suggested we get a divorce.”


	10. September 2001

            As fate would have it, the fall of the World Trade Centers happened the same day as my birthday. It was a huge commotion, a lot of the staff went to New York to help with the rescue, including Eliza, and I was left alone with John. He had been out of it for a week at least. His organs were failing and he did not have much longer. Eliza hated to leave, but I made her, the victims in New York needed her more. I turned the T.V. Off after a few hours of watching the destruction and heart wrenching videos. I sat in silence for the rest of the say, hand gripping John's.

            It was around three a.m. When I awoke with a jerk and sat up to look around the room. All was quiet. I had just settled back down when I thought I heard my name. I glanced at John to see he still looked asleep and comfortable.

“Ezra?” his lips barely moved. I vaulted over the couch I had been sleeping on and turned on the bathroom light so I wouldn’t blind him.

“John?” I leaned over him and his eyes opened slowly,

“Hey,” it was barely a whisper, but that was all it took to make me cry. He lifted his arms towards me a little and I crawled into bed with him, sobs racking my body. He shushed me gently, fingers pressing lightly against my cheek. I glanced up to see he was staring at the ceiling.

“Should I get a nurse?” It was whispered softly because I was afraid of the answer. A very small shake of his head made my chest constrict painfully. I settled my face against his chest my fingers pressed gently to his neck, feeling the heartbeat that was mirrored by the monitor behind me. After a few minutes I said softly, “John I love you,” and felt his fingers press against my side briefly before a long monotone noise sounded behind me.

            By the time I realized it was his heartbeat monitor nurses were almost to the room, crash cart in hand. They've told me that when they got to the room I was screaming. They said I was incoherent for nearly two days and they were worried I was going to kill myself. I don't remember any of that. I recall when Eliza came back. They had me in a room, an IV hooked up to my arm to keep me calm. She just stroked my hair and cried. I went with her to the funeral home to confirm that everything was in order. We had picked out everything a few weeks before, John had insisted. Eliza bought me a dress and I put it on the morning of the funeral. When we pulled up to the church I could feel my stomach turn. Too many tears, too many looks of pity.

“You ready?” Eliza was looking at me expectantly. I just nodded and opened up the door.

 

 

“I would like to start off with a song, because music is and was my life. Johnathan was my life.” I strummed gently on my beat up acoustic, humming softly in my throat.

“Day after day I'm more confused,

Yet I look for the light through the pouring rain.

You know that's a game that I hate to lose.

And I'm feeling the strain

Ain't it a shame?”

            As I sang Johnathan's favorite song I fought to ignore the feelings that were threatening to consume me.

“Thanks for the joy that you've given me.

I want you to know that I believe in your song

rhythm and rhyme and harmony.

You've helped me along, you're making me strong”

            I strummed the final chord and took a deep breath, glancing up at the gathering of people in front of me.

           “I want to thank all of you for coming today. John would have been really happy to know how many people cared for him. This would have stroked his ego,” a collective, sad laugh, “I don't want you all to be sad, and neither would Johnathan. We knew this was coming and we prepared for it, made sure everything was in order, hell, John even picked out his own casket and burial plot.” I laughed, a weak, hollow attempt, “John knew he was going to die but he wasn't scared, he wasn't sad. Even in the end, when the pain was nearly unbearable, Johnathan always had a smile for me. So don't pity him, don't you dare feel sorry for Johnathan Reese, because he was a good man, a strong man, and if anything you should envy him. Envy John for the courage he had. It takes a real man to look death in the face and smile.”

           After all of the singing and talking the pastor finished up his sermon. In the time it took him to go on about life, death, and the beauty in between, I had relived the past two years. He gestured for Eliza and I to stand and come say our last goodbyes. I felt my mask beginning to crack. Since the first night I hadn't cried or really exuded any kind of emotion. Now they wanted me to look at my dead husband's body and somehow find solace in the fact that he was not suffering anymore. Eliza held out a hand to me, a line forming behind us. I wanted to just grab her and shake her out of her stupor, any thing to make her stop looking at me with such pity. I stood and pushed past her, the rest of the congregation parting for me to pass. I burst out of the doors and into the parking lot gasping for air. I ripped off of my uncomfortable shoes and threw them with a shriek. Next were the pantyhose and I was just standing there, slightly cold, panting, when a hand touched my shoulder. I turned to see Geoff standing behind me in an ill fitting suit, looking concerned.

           “You want to get out of here?”

            I just nodded and followed him to a beat up, old Chevy. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his top two buttons before throwing his jacket in the back of the car. We sat in silence for moment as he opened his cigarettes and pulled out two giving one to me. He started the car and pulled out onto the road, not asking any questions or talking. I rolled down the window and put my feet up on the dash, letting the cool wind slide over my skin and blow my worries away.


	11. Epilogue: May 2003

It was sunny as I made my way through the cemetery, no breeze to be felt. It had been nearly two years since John's death, yet that was the first time that I was visiting. At first I had been too upset, then too angry, and then I started school again. I had just graduated with my associates degree and was about to leave for work. I guess I had the notion that I should say goodbye. I finally found his tombstone and stared at it for a long moment before sitting down slowly.

            “So this awkward, being here, talking to piece of stone, but I figured this is the best it's going to get. I'm sorry I haven't been around. I was finishing up school and honestly I didn't relish talking to your grave. You remember Geoff? His band hit it big. I know right?” I chuckled as I imagined the look John would have on his face, “Yeah they are about to start on their second cd tour. Geoff asked me to help out with their sound. Their old guy is now their drummer or something. I'm getting paid pretty well for it, just like you said I would. They uh- they're doing really good, everyone misses you. Eliza took your death really hard. I do what I can to help her, but I just don't know what to do. I hate to leave her like this, but she insists I go. I just-I don't know what to do.”

            I sighed and rubbed my face with my hands. I felt ridiculous. John couldn't hear me. He was dead and I was being stupid. I stood and brushed off my jeans. I started to leave but paused, placed a hand on his headstone and whispered, “I miss you, wish you were here,” before turning and leaving. Head down, I was trying not to cry when I rounded the corner of a pretty mausoleum and ran smack into another person.

“What the fuck?”

I rubbed my shoulder and looked up to see a guy looking at me like I was crazy. His eyes were a little red rimmed and I don't know how someone can just look like an asshole, but this guy did. He seemed to be waiting for an answer, so I mumbled an apology and tried to move past him. His hand caught mine and I felt a weird twinge in my stomach before I jerked my hand away.

“Hey, easy,” he said, hands up and backed away a step, “You're Ezra right? Geoff introduced us a while back.” I looked a little closer and realized he was in Geoff's band. I nodded and forced a smile. He held out a hand,

“Frank, Frank Isle.”

I glanced up at his eyes, hazel, and slid my hand into his, swallowing at the feel of callouses that reminded me of John,

“Ezra, Ezra Reese.”


End file.
